The prisoner

This is the place,
That place where love and fear collide,
And break all thought into a million pieces.
Where doubt and hope,
Must meet in that same space,
Somehow combining to find a better whole.
This place where dreams,
Must come to fruit or whither slowly,
But it is a time for harvest still.
The circle it must turn,
And truth will out, however great the pain,
Before complete and whole we stand.
And if the dreamer wakened,
To find that love had turned to apathy,
Then he should speak and so find freedom.
For in this time,
And in this place,
True love will give release.

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