By JH Sayyar
When tempests rage and tyrants seek to bind,
One voice endures, defiant, proud, and still—
A lion’s heart and unbroken in the grind,
Imran, whose gaze bends fate to iron-will
He walked through fire where men would fall,
With chains upon him, yet his soul stood high;
No dungeon bars could dim his clarion call,
Nor silence truth beneath a darkened sky.
Let gilded towers shake upon their base,
As conscience wakes where cowards not tread;
All your lovers bear witness to this grace—
A nation's hope not buried, but widespread.
Now storms may howl and traitors set their snare,
His will remains soon; mountain none can tear.
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