The heaviest of fall shall not bid him crawl.
The phobes will bawl, the machine will maul,
But the spirit shall hold; through it all.

The daggers of hate, the arrows of fate,
reflected by the soul, sparkle anew facet,
diamonds they are all, for he is the state.

In tears of a warrior trickle words of a sage,
His grand last stand, heralds a new age.