In die Freiheit! - The Adventures of Werner Holt

He walked a land of shattered stone, A haunted path he walked alone. No triumph burned within his chest— Just ghosts of those who’d never rest. The boy he was had turned to dust, Betrayed by dreams, by hope, by trust. He saw the once who chased the light Now swallowed by the endless night: Uta forced to leave the land, Zemtzki lost to wrong command, Wiese shot for what he chose, Gomulka gone where no one knows, And Wolzow, once a brother, Now fallen, soon forgotten. He’s not just home, he’s torn apart— A walking wound, a fractured heart. He brings no glory back again, Just memories carved in burning pain. Yet in the ruins cold and bare, A trembling pulse says someone’s there. He stumbled to his father’s door, A shadow of the self before. His strength gave out, his vision blurred, No prayer rose, no final word. He braced for darkness, heavy, deep— Prepared at last to fall and sleep. But arms reached out before he fell, A voice broke through his private hell. Gundel held him, soft and strong, A warmth he’d missed for far too long. In her embrace, the storm grew still— A fragile spark defied his will. He’s not just home—he’s born anew, Though scarred by all that he’s been through. A soul remade by fire and night, Still reaching for the faintest light. For in her hands, despite the pain, He learns to breathe, to live again. „Ich komme aus einer Welt, die mich in einen einzigen Irrtum geführt hat. Und ich will aus diesem Irrtum heraus. In die Freiheit!“