Majestic Peaks, the deserts rise,

Their rugged beauty, wild and grand,

Withstanding time, and weather's ties,

A monument to nature's hand.

The winds do howl, and sand does blow,

As desolate as it may seem,

Yet in its emptiness, there's a glow,

That speaks of freedom, and a dream.

For in these mountains, one can find,

A solace from the world below,

A place where peace and peace of mind,

Can flourish, free from all life's woe.

And as I stand, beneath their peak,

I am reminded of the soul,

Its rugged beauty, strong and meek,

A symbol of life, its role.Majestic peaks, the deserts rise,

Their rugged beauty, wild and grand,

Withstanding time, and weather's ties,

A monument to nature's hand.

The winds do howl, and sand does blow,

As desolate as it may seem,

Yet in its emptiness, there's a glow,

That speaks of freedom, and a dream.

For in these mountains, one can find,

A solace from the world below,

A place where peace and peace of mind,

Can flourish, free from all life's woe.

And as I stand, beneath their peak,

I am reminded of the soul,

Its rugged beauty, strong and meek,

A symbol of life, its role.

Trapped in the maze of life, I wander and roam,

With each step, I feel as if I'm moving from home.

The walls around me, they rise so high,

And the path before me, it seems to die.

In this labyrinth, I cannot find my way,

My mind's eye is clouded, I cannot pray.

The darkness creeps in, and I feel so lost,

The hope within me, at such a great cost.

Oh, how I long for the light of day,

To guide me out of this labyrinth, to lead me away.

But with each turn, I'm met with another dead end,

And my heart begins to break, my mind begins to bend.

In desperation, I cry out to the sky,

"How will I ever escape this never-ending night?"

But the echo of my voice, it dies in the air,

And the darkness just deepens, with no one to care.

In this labyrinth, I feel so alone,

With no escape in sight, I'm lost on my own.

But I'll keep searching, and I'll keep trying,

Until I find the way out, and I'm free to fly

Oh, my love, where have you gone?

Left me with memories of our song,

The fragrance of your smile still lingers,

Like a rose in my heart that forever fingers.

The petals of your laughter still bloom,

In my mind, a sweet, eternal perfume,

The thorns of your absence, sharp and cruel,

A constant reminder of what once was true.

The winds of time may blow and shift,

But my love, my heart will never drift,

For you, my love, are a rose in bloom,

Etched forever in my heart, a memory to resume.

Though you are gone, your beauty endures,

A treasure, a love that always assures,

A rose for a lost love, a flower in my soul,

A symbol of what once was, now forever whole.

In a world of oppression, where justice is a distant dream

The masses rise up, with a voice that loud and clear does stream

For the weight of tyranny, is more than they can bear

And in their hearts, a rebellion burns with a fierce and fiery glare

They march with heads held high, in a show of strength and might

Defying the powers that be, in a fight for what is right

With each stride they make, their voice echoes louder and more resolute

For they are not alone, in their quest for justice, and a world that's free

Can They break the chains, that have bound them for so long

And in their eyes, the fire of a revolution burns, with a fiery flame

for they know that freedom, is not a gift to be bestowed

But a right, that they must take, with courage, and with a bravery that shines

let the world take heed, of this uprising and blood

For the masses will not be silenced, without a battle

And though the battle may be fierce and unyielding, and the sacrifice may be immense

The reward, a world of justice, and a world where rebellion is a virtue

A voice of a woman, like the scent of jasmine,

A whisper that echoes, a tale of her plight,

A journey through pain, and a search for truth,

Her spirit endures, in the face of strife.

Her words paint a picture, of a world divided,

Of a people oppressed, and a land in pain,

Of the tears of mothers, and the cries of children,

Of the loss of a home, and the pain of gain.

Her voice is a bridge, between the past and present,

A reminder of all that was lost and gained,

Of the power of love, in the face of injustice,

And the resilience of the human spirit, sustained.

So listen to her words, as they weave their magic,

A story of hope, and of love that will remain,

For in her voice, lies the voice of a nation,

And the heartbeat of a people, forever the same

A young boy sits, with an endless yawn,

In a group of people, where he doesn't belong.

No laughter, no love, just a hollow sound,

Of a schoolboy who's bored and yearns for something profound.

He looks around, at the sea of faces,

But not one of them, in his mind, finds a place.

For in this group, where no one cares,

Rebelling and oppression, are sins that aren't rare.

He feels alone, in a sea of noise,

With a mind full of questions, and no one to voice.

For in this place, where oppression reigns,

Freedom and joy, are the unheard strains.

The boy grows sad, with a heavy heart,

Feeling lost, in this world that's torn apart.

He longs for a voice, to rise above the crowd,

And to lead this group, to a brighter road.

But in this place, where oppression takes hold,

The boy is lost, and his spirit grows old.

His sadness grows, with each passing day,

In this group, where no one cares to listen and play.

The boy despairs, with a bitter heart,

For in this place, he will never have a part.

He's just a schoolboy, lost in the crowd,

With a dream of freedom, and a voice that's never loud.

Palestine,land of olives and grapes,

Once a place of peace, now a site of endless escapes.

the streets, once filled with laughter and song,

Now echo the sounds of bombs and sirens all night long.

The keys to our homes, a symbol of our lost past,

The memories we keep, a pain that will always last.

Our fields, once fertile and rich, now reduced to dust,

The fertile crescent, now a barren wasteland, a symbol of distrust.

Oh Palestine, you are the wound that never heals,

A reminder of what was lost, of what could have been real.

The pain of our displacement, a sorrow that will not end,

The Nakba, a memory that will always be with us, until the very end.

We will not forget, the villages that once were,

The homes we left behind, the land that was ours.

We will keep our dreams alive, of a Palestine that's free,

I am the stranger, in a foreign land, An outcast, in a world that's not my own, A voice, that's been silenced, by the sands of time, A heart, that's been broken, and forever flown.

I am the wanderer, in a land of dreams, A poet, in a world, that's lost its song, A witness, to the beauty, and the grief, A voice, that's been carried, on the winds so strong.

I am the exile, of a broken land, A prisoner, of my own history, A voice, that's been searching, for a brighter strand, A heart, that's been longing, for its own liberty.

Yet despite the distance, and the endless pain, The memories, of my homeland, still remain, For in my heart, and in my soul, The love, of my land, will never grow old.