He woke up early and began to pray. The same way he began each day. He held back tears and fought off fears; his heart told him just what to say.

His life thus far had rocky roads. His back was bent neath heavy loads. He had no joy; no rest or peace. His constant pain would never cease.

There was no hope; no love in sight. No dawn to end his pitch-dark night. Yet somehow still he soldiered on; his prayer became his marching song.

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