Ladies help define men to stride to be better,
And us men without our equal are prisoned in a soundless white room,
With sensation and voices dulled by empty cup.

The walk without the need to go places,
And the time stopped without her presence,
While searching for something tangible to grasp.

We men are mortified walkers,
Without a purpose or cause,
And lambs of the butchery robbed of shepherds.

We need our guidance,
Soul stone of our pathway.

The woman of our lives are our equal,
The voices where men can have sanctuary,
Our inner solidarity and piece of solice.

They are our inner home,
Our kingdom of fortitude,
The fortress of our essence.