In the midst of the shadows, trust actually sparkles,
A tranquil light, a far off pillar.
Through most obscure evenings, it delicately calls,
A murmur reverberating through the walls.
At the point when tempest mists accumulate, hearts might break,
Yet, we ascend for the good of trust's own.
For in the melancholy, a flash will begin,
A consistent fire to fill the heart.
In haziness, trust will continuously find,
A method for mending, to free the psyche.
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