by Hans Senfuma
In the quiet corners of history’s embrace, Where shadows dance and memories trace, There stands a figure, steadfast and true, Phillip, the silent hero, known by few.
Beside Troy’s flame, he stood unwavering, Through tempests of prejudice, courage saving, Their hearts entwined, a fierce alliance, Two souls aflame, defying silence.
They carved their names upon the winds, Champions of love, where hope begins, In the corridors of justice, they tread, Phillip’s steps echoing, unsung but widespread.
He held the banner when storms raged high, A whispered strength, a tear-streaked sky, For every battle fought, every tear shed, Phillip stood firm, love’s quiet thread.
In courtrooms and rallies, they wove their tale, Phillip’s voice a whisper, yet never frail, He lent Troy wings when the world grew dark, A symphony of resilience, a hidden spark.
And when the gavel fell, and love prevailed, Phillip’s name etched in the tapestry unveiled, He didn’t seek applause or laurels grand, His legacy woven in Troy’s steadfast hand.
So here’s to Phillip, the unsung muse, Whose love, like constellations, won’t diffuse, In the quietude of history’s vast sea, He remains a beacon, silent and free.
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