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THE OBSTACLE REMINDER
A trusted face, a familiar name,
The one who should uplift, brings shame.
A hidden foe, in plain sight,
The obstacle reminder, a constant fight.
With every step, a push away,
The one who's supposed to lead the way.
A paradox of trust and pain,
A heart that's torn, a love in vain.
A reminder of what's gone wrong,
A reflection of a troubled song.
A test of strength, a trial by fire,
A chance to rise, or succumb to desire.
The obstacle course, a maze of pain,
A journey through the darkest vein.
Each hurdle higher, each step unsure,
A path that's treacherous, a heart that's pure.
More wounds than answers, more scars than gold,
A soul that's weary, a story untold.
The obstacle reminder, a weight that's borne,
A burden that's heavy, a heart that's torn.
A cry for help, a whispered prayer,
A longing for escape, a desperate air.
But still we rise, though wounded and worn,
For in the struggle, a new strength is born.
The obstacle course, a refining flame,
A test of courage, a heart that's not tamed.
Will you confront, or turn away?
Will you break free, or stay in disarray?
The obstacle reminder, a mirror to the soul,
A call to awaken, and take control.
DON'T GIVE UP TRUST SO
Don't give up, trust the journey so,
Victory awaits, don't let go.
The road ahead may seem tough and long,
But every step takes you closer to your song.
Keep pushing forward, don't lose your way,
The youth's energy will light up the day.
Work hard, stay focused, and never give in,
Success will come, and your dreams will begin.
So don't give up, trust the process, you'll see,
A brighter future, a life full of glee.
Keep striving, keep pushing, and you'll thrive,
And your story will be one of triumph and pride.
Through struggles and trials, you'll find your strength,
And emerge victorious, at the end of the length.
Your hard work will pay off, don't lose faith,
And you'll stand tall, with a heart full of grace.
Keep moving forward, with determination in sight,
And you'll shine bright, like a beacon in the night.
Your future is bright, don't let fear hold you back,
Take the leap, and seize the opportunities that attack.
Rise up, young ones, and show the world your might,
You've got this, don't give up, and shine with all your light!
Believe in yourself, and your abilities too,
And you'll achieve greatness, that's waiting for you.
With every step, you'll find your own way,
And your dreams will unfold, come what may.
So keep pushing forward, with hope in your heart,
And you'll make a difference, and play your part. 💪🔥
Human Nature
HUMAN NATURE
By Obed Yadzo — Lilbed Wordweave
We are born crying—
a sound that shakes the air like thunder,
announcing that another fragile miracle
has fallen into the chaos of breathing.
We are dust, ancient and restless,
but we carry galaxies in our veins.
We stumble through time pretending we are steady,
pretending the world is ours to keep.
We build cities out of our fears,
write laws to cage the storms inside us,
invent love to heal what reason cannot reach.
Yet beneath our glittering inventions
we remain wild—half light, half wound.
We chase beauty as if it will save us,
but even beauty breaks.
A flower blooms for a second, and we call it eternity.
A smile fades, and we write poems to keep it from dying.
We are contradictions dressed in skin—
the saint and the sinner,
the creator and the destroyer,
the dreamer and the beast.
We speak of peace while sharpening our tongues like knives.
We promise kindness then crucify what we fear.
Still, we reach for each other.
In the middle of storms, in hunger and heartbreak,
we keep reaching.
Something in us believes that light is real—
even when darkness wins the argument.
We build homes out of memories,
bury pain in laughter, and call that survival.
We love people who will hurt us
and forgive people who won’t remember our names.
We make art so we can remember who we almost became.
The world moves fast—screens glow brighter than the sun,
voices drown in noise,
and yet a child still looks at the sky and asks,
"Why is it blue?"
That question alone proves hope still breathes.
We are fragile, but there is glory in our breaking.
We are small, but our hearts still hold oceans.
We are temporary, but every heartbeat is a universe,
every act of mercy a spark that defies extinction.
Human nature—
a paradox of dust and fire,
of cruelty and compassion,
of destruction and rebirth.
And maybe that’s what makes us beautiful:
that we are never finished.
We keep falling, rising, and falling again—
each time closer to becoming something whole.
© 2025 Obed Yadzo — Lilbed Wordweave. All Rights Reserved.
Human Nature
Lilbed Wordweave ✨
HUMAN NATURE
We are born crying —
a sound that shakes the air like thunder,
announcing that another fragile miracle
has fallen into the chaos of breathing. We are dust, ancient and restless,
but we carry galaxies in our veins.
We stumble through time
pretending we are steady,
pretending the world is ours to keep. We build cities out of our fears,
write laws to cage the storms inside us,
invent love to heal what reason cannot reach.
Yet beneath our glittering inventions
we remain wild — half light, half wound. We chase beauty as if it will save us,
but even beauty breaks.
A flower blooms for a second,
and we call it eternity.
A smile fades, and we write poems
to keep it from dying. We are contradictions dressed in skin —
the saint and the sinner,
the creator and the destroyer,
the dreamer and the beast.
We speak of peace while sharpening our tongues like knives.
We promise kindness, then crucify what we fear. Still, we reach for each other.
In the middle of storms,
in hunger and heartbreak,
we keep reaching.
Something in us believes
that light is real — even when darkness wins the argument. We build homes out of memories,
bury pain in laughter, and call that survival.
We love people who will hurt us
and forgive people who won’t remember our names.
We make art so we can remember who we almost became. The world moves fast —
screens glow brighter than the sun,
voices drown in noise,
and yet a child still looks at the sky
and asks, “Why is it blue?”
That question alone proves hope still breathes. We are fragile, but there is glory in our breaking.
We are small, but our hearts still hold oceans.
We are temporary, but every heartbeat is a universe,
every act of mercy a spark that defies extinction. Human nature — a paradox of dust and fire,
of cruelty and compassion,
of destruction and rebirth. And maybe that’s what makes us beautiful:
that we are never finished.
We keep falling, rising, and falling again —
each time closer to becoming something whole.
a sound that shakes the air like thunder,
announcing that another fragile miracle
has fallen into the chaos of breathing. We are dust, ancient and restless,
but we carry galaxies in our veins.
We stumble through time
pretending we are steady,
pretending the world is ours to keep. We build cities out of our fears,
write laws to cage the storms inside us,
invent love to heal what reason cannot reach.
Yet beneath our glittering inventions
we remain wild — half light, half wound. We chase beauty as if it will save us,
but even beauty breaks.
A flower blooms for a second,
and we call it eternity.
A smile fades, and we write poems
to keep it from dying. We are contradictions dressed in skin —
the saint and the sinner,
the creator and the destroyer,
the dreamer and the beast.
We speak of peace while sharpening our tongues like knives.
We promise kindness, then crucify what we fear. Still, we reach for each other.
In the middle of storms,
in hunger and heartbreak,
we keep reaching.
Something in us believes
that light is real — even when darkness wins the argument. We build homes out of memories,
bury pain in laughter, and call that survival.
We love people who will hurt us
and forgive people who won’t remember our names.
We make art so we can remember who we almost became. The world moves fast —
screens glow brighter than the sun,
voices drown in noise,
and yet a child still looks at the sky
and asks, “Why is it blue?”
That question alone proves hope still breathes. We are fragile, but there is glory in our breaking.
We are small, but our hearts still hold oceans.
We are temporary, but every heartbeat is a universe,
every act of mercy a spark that defies extinction. Human nature — a paradox of dust and fire,
of cruelty and compassion,
of destruction and rebirth. And maybe that’s what makes us beautiful:
that we are never finished.
We keep falling, rising, and falling again —
each time closer to becoming something whole.
🌙 Lilbed Wordweave
© 2025 Obed Yadzo — All Rights Reserved
I CLOSE MY EYES AND THE MEMORY TURN TO PRAYERS
I close my eyes, but the memories remain
A whispered prayer, a heartfelt refrain
The echoes of love, the whispers of pain
A bittersweet reminder, of moments in vain
In the silence, I hear your voice
A gentle whisper, a heartfelt choice
To hold on to the past, or let go
To find solace in memories, or let them grow
I close my eyes, and the memories unfold
Like a tapestry, of moments to behold
The laughter, the tears, the joy, the strife
A life once lived, a love that's rife
But in the darkness, a light shines through
A prayer of hope, a heart that's true
The memories, they guide me still
A beacon in the night, a gentle will
I close my eyes, and the memories pray
For strength, for courage, for a brighter day
To heal the wounds, to mend the heart
To find peace in the memories, and never depart
In the stillness, I find my way
Through the echoes, of a bygone day
The memories, they whisper low
Of love, of loss, of letting go
I close my eyes, and the memories speak
Of moments cherished, of hearts that seek
To hold on to the past, or move ahead
To find solace in memories, or forge ahead
The memories, they linger on
A bittersweet reminder, of what's gone
But in the prayer, I find my peace
A sense of calm, a heart that's released
I close my eyes, and the memories fade
Into the shadows, of a distant shade
But the prayer remains, a heartfelt cry
A whispered hope, a love that won't die
In the quiet, I find my rest
A sense of closure, a heart that's blessed
The memories, they slowly fade
But the love remains, a love that's made
And in the silence, I hear a voice
A gentle whisper, a heartfelt choice
To let go of the past, and move ahead
To find solace in memories, and be led.
Acts in Arts
By Obed Yadzo – Lilbed Wordweave
I have seen art walk barefoot through dust,
and still leave footprints that never fade.
It is not the paint, nor the drum,
but the pulse that shakes through them.
Our stories were never lost ,
they just learned to breathe through wood,
through bronze,
through the rhythm of the talking drum.
When I speak, I am not alone.
Voices older than soil
move through my throat,
carrying names the world forgot to write down.
Every dance,
every carving,
every line of song
is a door to before ,
where memory was alive,
not trapped in museums.
We are not copies.
We are continuations.
Acts in arts ,
where the spirit still performs itself.
🌟 Voice Worth Celebrating , Michael Agbah (Mummunies Mindset)
Every now and then, a writer comes along whose words touch hearts, awaken minds, and remind us of what it truly means to feel.
That writer is Michael Agbah, known to many as Mummunies Mindset.
Through his powerful expressions and poetic depth, Michael has carved out a space in the hearts of readers all over the Lilbed Wordweave community. His poem, “The Struggle Sweat,” reached over 2,000 readers in just one day — a testament to the emotional strength and authenticity behind his words.
Today, Lilbed Wordweave proudly recognizes Michael as an official Poet, Writer, and Blogger under the Lilbed Wordweave Authority.
This honor celebrates not only his talent but also his resilience, consistency, and belief in the power of storytelling to heal and inspire.
> “Michael’s work reminds us that words are more than ink on paper — they are bridges that connect hearts and voices that refuse to be silenced.”
— Lilbed Wordweave Team
Awarded by: Lilbed Wordweave
Founders: Obed Yadzo & Adja Lilian Koadade
Date: October 25, 2025
We are proud to have Michael as part of our growing family of creative voices shaping the Lilbed Universe — and we can’t wait to see where his words will take the world next.
Congratulations , Mummunies Mindset!
Keep writing. Keep inspiring. The world is listening. 💫
THE STRUGGLE SWEAT
The struggle sweat drips and flows
It is A testament to the toil that the heart knows
The weight of dreams is the burden of might
A relentless drive, through day and night
The sweat that drips down is like tears of pain
A cry for breakthrough is a plea for gain
The muscles ache is what the body wears
But the spirit remains unbroken and fair
The struggle sweat, it is a badge of pride
A symbol of sacrifice, where hearts reside
The fire that fuels is the passion that burns
And determinationthat refuses to learn
It's the sweat of labour, the sweat of tears
A cry for freedom, from doubts and fears
It is the sweat of struggle, the sweat of might
A fight for tomorrow is a beacon in the night
The struggle sweat, it's a story told
Of trials and tribulations, young and old
A tale of perseverance, of strength and will
A journey of becoming, of standing still
So let the sweat drip, let the tears fall
For in the struggle, we'll rise above it all
The struggle sweat, it's a badge of honour true
A testament to the strength, that sees us through
The struggle sweat, it's a reminder too
Of the battles fought, and the victories won anew
It's a symbol of hope, in the darkest night
A shining light, that guides us to the morning light
The struggle sweat, it's a motivator strong
A driving force, that pushes us to move along
It's a call to action, to rise and shine
To chase our dreams, and make them mine
The struggle sweat, it's a part of the ride
A necessary step, to reach the other side
So let's embrace it, with all our might
And rise above, in the morning light
With every drop, a story's told
Of resilience, of courage, of hearts made bold
The struggle sweat, it's a badge we wear
A symbol of strength, that's always fair and clear
Discover something new
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HOW I FEEL ON THE RAINY MORNING
The rain falls gently, outside my door
A melancholy rhythm, that I adore
The grey sky weeps, tears of sorrow and pain
Echoing the emotions, that my heart contains
The droplets on the windowpane, like diamonds shine
Reflecting the turmoil, that's been mine
The world outside is veiled, in a misty shroud
As I gaze inward, to the emotions, I've allowed
The rainy morning, wraps me in its chill
A soothing balm, for the wounds that I've to fill
The pitter-patter, of the raindrops on the roof
A symphony that calms, my restless, troubled truth
In this quiet hour, I reflect on my heart
The joys, the sorrows, the love, the brand
The rain washes clean, the tears I've cried
As I surrender, to the emotions, that I've denied
The world may be gloomy, but in this rain
I find solace, and a gentle, peaceful strain
The droplets on my skin, like tears, they fall
As I let go, and allow myself, to stand tall
In this rainy morning, I find my peace
A time to heal, and let my heart release
The emotions, that I've held, so tightly in
The rain washes clean, and makes me whole again
The rain reminds me, of life's ebb and flow
A constant cycle, of joy and woe
It teaches me to let go, and flow with the tide
To trust the universe, and take the ride
In the stillness, I hear my heart's voice
A whisper that guides me, to a peaceful choice
The rain's melody, a lullaby so sweet
Lulls me into calmness, and makes my heart skip a beat
The world outside may be grey and cold
But in this rainy morning, my heart is made of gold
I find my strength, in the rain's gentle touch
And emerge renewed, with a heart that's flush
The rain falls gently, and I breathe it in
A sense of calm, that soothes my soul within
I let go of worries, and fears that I've known
And find serenity, in this rainy morning's tone
TIME AS AN OLD MAN
His steps are slow, his eyes astray,
His hair is white, his beard is long,
A tale of stories, a chronicle of song.
His hands are wrinkled, his fingers worn,
Holding the threads, of moments born,
He weaves the fabric, of past and present,
A tapestry rich, of life's intent.
His eyes have seen, the rise and fall,
Of empires great, and stories tall,
He's witnessed wars, and peace divine,
A silent observer, of life's design.
His voice is hoarse, his words are few,
A whisper of wisdom, for me and you,
He speaks of memories, of days gone by,
A nostalgic echo, that makes us sigh.
His back is bent, his shoulders worn,
Carrying the weight, of years unborn,
He's a keeper of secrets, a guardian of time,
A master of moments, a weaver of rhyme.
His presence is felt, in every place,
A constant reminder, of life's swift pace,
He's a motivator, to make the most,
Of every moment, no matter the cost.
He walks with scythe, through fields of gold,
Harvesting dreams, and stories untold,
He gathers moments, like leaves in fall,
And weaves them into, a chronicle's call.
His eyes are windows, to the past,
Reflecting memories, that forever last,
He's a storyteller, of life's grand tale,
A keeper of history, a weaver of gale.
He's a reminder, that time is fleeting,
A motivator, to keep on repeating,
The stories of life, the memories we hold,
A treasure trove, of moments untold.
His tied grey form, a symbol true,
Of time's relentless, and unyielding flow,
A call to action, to make the most,
Of every moment, no matter the cost.
Wake Up!
~``` _By Lilbed WordweavE
Wake up, dear dreamer, the dawn is near,
Your fear is loud, but faith is clear.
The road is rough, the climb is steep,
Yet greatness wakes from fearless sleep.
Don’t wait for stars to light your way,
Be your own sun — begin today.
Each fall you face, each tear you shed,
Becomes the stone where dreams are bred.
The world won’t hand you golden keys,
You carve your doors with grit and knees.
So rise again, though trials burn,
Each pain you bear will help you learn.
The path you seek is yours to make,
With every move, the doubts will break.
So wake up now — your heart’s the spark,
Go light your fire, ignite the dark.
Official Update from the Lilbed Wordweave TEC Community
囯
Dear Readers and Supporters,
The Lilbed Wordweave TEC Community has officially changed our website link from
👉 obedyadzo01.blogspot.com
to
🌐 lilbedwordweave.blogspot.com
This change has been made for important community and branding reasons to reflect our unified identity under Lilbed Wordweave.
Kindly follow and share our new official link and stay connected with us across all social media platforms using the name:
🔹 Lilbed Wordweave
Thank you for your continued support and creativity!
– Lilbed Wordweave TEC Community
Answers to Where Will They Pass?
Answers to Where Will They Pass?
What if the skies fold their arms,
And nature says, No more flights here —
Where will our planes pass?
They will crash into the pride of man,
And rust in the graveyard of forgotten dreams.
What if the roads we boast of
Melt into a muddy soup,
And tyres sink like stones in clay —
Where will the cars pass?
They will rot on their wheels,
While the dust laughs at their silence.
What if the rivers we traced on maps
Are swallowed into the earth’s own belly,
And the ships we carved like kings
Find no throne of water?
Where will they pass?
They will sit in dry harbours,
Like caged giants with no song to sing.
Shall we return to the olden ways,
Harnessing horses, barefoot in the dust?
But if the paths themselves close their lips,
Where will they pass?
They will stumble in circles,
As the earth reclaims her patience.
And if God, with one holy breath,
Discards our wires, our wheels, our wings,
If He turns His face from our artificial being —
Where will our creations pass?
They will pass into nothingness,
Back into the silence from which they came.
And where will we pass?
Into the truth we feared to admit —
That without His grace,
We have nowhere to go.
OPEN DOOR WITHOUT UR PRESENCE
The door stands open wide,
A welcoming space inside,
Yet your presence, I cannot find,
A silence that my heart cannot bind.
Your physical form may be near,
But your essence, I do not hear,
The connection we once did share,
Now feels distant, beyond repair.
The open door, a symbol true,
Of opportunities waiting anew,
But without you, it's just a space,
A hollow echo, an empty place.
I search for signs of your design,
A glimpse of warmth, a hint of shine,
But like a ghost, you're hard to find,
Leaving me with just a whisper on my mind.
In this vacant room, I wander alone,
The open door, a taunting tone,
Inviting others to come and stay,
While I'm left here, with nothing to say.
The door creaks softly in the breeze,
A gentle whisper, a lonely plea,
For someone to come and fill the space,
To bring life to this empty, hollow place.
Shadows dance upon the wall,
Echoes of memories that once enthralled,
I try to grasp, but they're gone in flight,
Leaving me with just a hollow light.
Time stands still, the clock unwinds,
As I wait for the warmth that only you could find,
The open door, a constant sigh,
A reminder of the love that's passed me by.
In the silence, I hear your name,
A whispered echo, a lingering flame,
But like a dream, it fades away,
Leaving me with just this empty day.
The door remains, a symbol stark,
A reminder of the love that left its mark,
A space that's empty, hollow, and grey,
Waiting for the love that's gone astray.
💠 Value Her , She Is the Motherboard
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Value her.
She is the motherboard ; the system where love is processed, where emotions connect, and where life finds its rhythm.
Without her, nothing runs right.
Without her, signals fade.
Without her, purpose crashes.
She carries the data of creation- ,the joy, the pain, the memory, and the strength to restart what life tries to shut down.
She does not just support ;she sustains.
She does not just connect ;she completes.
In the language of Public Relations, she is your reputation.
The way you treat her tells the world who you truly are.
If you love her right, your story shines brighter than words.
When she feels seen, peace multiplies.
When she is ignored, even silence turns into noise.
> Value her — because she is not just part of your story.
She is the heartbeat of it.
So listen when she is quiet.
Speak life when she is weary.
Protect her when the world forgets her worth.
For when you value the motherboard,
everything connected to her runs well .
🌿The Parable of the Garden — by Obed Yadzo
🌿The Parable of the Garden — by Obed Yadzo
A relationship is like a public image — it lives not just in words, but in actions, consistency, and care.
When a gardener plants two seeds, he doesn’t expect instant fruit. He waters them, protects them from weeds, and gives them time.
That is PR in love — Personal Relations, not just Public Relations.
Many start a relationship like a brand launch — bright promises, loud announcements — but forget that trust is built quietly, over time.
In every strong marriage, there’s a press release called truth, a media strategy called understanding, and a reputation policy called forgiveness.
When storms come — and they will — remember this:
No brand survives without crisis management, and no marriage thrives without grace.
Jesus told stories to make truth live in the heart.
So here’s the truth behind this one:
> “Love is not a show — it’s a service.
Relationship is not a campaign — it’s a calling.
Marriage is not the end of PR — it’s the beginning of lifelong communication.”
So build your bond like a good PR team:
Listen before you speak.
Respond, don’t react.
Be transparent.
Protect each other’s name.
Renew your message daily.
Because in the end, a good relationship tells a story the world believes — and heaven approves.
A SISTER GUIDANCE
In times of need, you stood by me,
A steady presence, a listening ear, you see.
Your words of wisdom, a gentle breeze,
Helped calm my storms, brought me to my knees.
With kindness and care, you showed the way,
A guiding light, on a darkest day.
Your advice, a precious gift, so true,
Helped me navigate, what to do.
I'm grateful for you, a friend so dear,
Who stood by me, and wiped away my tear.
Your friendship, a treasure, pure and kind,
A bond that's strong, one that I find.
Thanks for being there, for me, my friend,
Your support, till the very end.
Through laughter and tears, we've shared our past,
Creating memories, that will forever last.
Your empathy and understanding, a rare find,
A friend like you, one of a kind.
In your company, I find my peace,
A sense of belonging, my heart releases.
With every step, you've been by my side,
A constant friend, through life's ebb and tide.
I'm thankful for our bond, our friendship so true,
A treasure I'll cherish, forever shining through.
African Tribe” Ordered to Leave Former Camp in Jedburgh
LilbedBBC News — Lilbed Wordweave Report
Date: 3 days ago
A self-proclaimed African spiritual group known as the Kingdom of Kubala has been legally barred from returning to private land in Jedburgh, where they had been previously evicted.
The trio — Ghanaian national Kofi Offeh (36), Zimbabwean-born Jean Gasho (43), and American Kaura Taylor, who call themselves King Atehehe, Queen Nandi, and Handmaiden Asnat — have been residing in the Jedburgh area since May.
Following a court session at Selkirk Sheriff Court, Sheriff Peter Paterson ruled against their return and imposed legal costs on the group. The Kingdom of Kubala members were absent during the hearing, maintaining their claim that they do not recognise the authority of the Scottish courts.
Earlier, the Scottish Borders Council secured an order banning the group from camping on any council property after they moved from private to public land near their original site.
The trio assert that their mission is to reclaim land they believe was taken from their African ancestors over 400 years ago. Meanwhile, council officials are calling on police to adopt a firmer approach to enforce the ruling.
THE TRUE SOULS WINNER
Dag Heward-Mills, a soulwinner true,
Wins hearts for Christ, with a message anew.
Through his preaching, lives are changed each day,
Souls saved, and destinies redirected on the way.
With passion and fire, he shares the light,
Guiding many to Christ, in the dark of night.
His evangelism ignites a flame so bright,
Drawing souls to Jesus, with all his might.
As a faithful servant, he spreads the Word,
Harvesting souls, in the fields of the Lord.
His ministry bears fruit, abundant and real,
Lives transformed, and hearts that now reveal.
Dag Heward-Mills, a vessel for the Lord,
Pours out his heart, with a soulwinner's accord.
His dedication inspires, his love ignites,
A beacon of hope, shining with gospel light.
Through his teachings, many find their way,
To the loving arms of Jesus, day by day.
Dag Heward-Mills, a winner of souls so dear,
Reflecting Christ's love, and banishing fear.
With every sermon, hearts are set free,
Lives redeemed, and souls restored in glee.
His impact resonates, far and wide,
A legacy of faith, that will not subside.
As a champion of the Gospel, he stands tall,
Proclaiming truth, and never faltering at all.
Dag Heward-Mills, a faithful servant true,
Wins souls for Christ, with a heart that's anew.
His church spreads far, across the land,
In nations distant, his message takes stand.
From Ghana's shores to lands beyond the sea,
The Lighthouse Chapel shines, a beacon to see.
With branches growing, in many a place,
The Gospel's reach, is extended with grace.
Through missionaries, and dedicated teams,
The Lighthouse Chapel's impact, is felt in many dreams.
In Africa, Europe, Asia, and beyond,
The message spreads, and hearts are won.
Dag Heward-Mills, a global servant true,
Spreading the Gospel, with a heart anew.
His legacy endures, as souls are saved,
And the Lighthouse Chapel's impact is engraved.
In hearts and lives, his ministry remains,
A testament to faith, that breaks all chains.
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