The Prisoner

Locked within four walls of stone,

I paced the length I called my own.

Years like ghosts passed through the gate,

While I sat chained by fear and fate.

No sun could warm my soul with grace,

For guilt had carved its silent place.

I heard no voice, I saw no sky—

Only the echo of my cry.

Yet one soft night, when all was still,

I felt a breath, a higher will.

Not from the guards, nor keys, nor bars—

But from within, beneath the scars.

A wordless truth began to bloom:

A man may live inside a tomb—

Yet if he loves, forgives, and prays,

He walks in light through darkest days.

My cell remains, the doors are closed,

My name, by many still opposed.

But I have found, in heart’s deep core,

A grace more wide than any door.