The corridors of enlightenment stand dusty and stained with years. I walk the halls in silence, pondering the moments that came before me. Weathered statues of ancient gods cast disapproving shadows over the cracked marble. I’m searching for an answer. Why are these passages dank and disregarded? Am I living in the Dark Ages? Is there no technology capable of illuminating this hour?
Boots of soldiers, now stirring the dust, lead to this moment of fragility. The chalice of independent thought oozes the smoke of war. The blossom of humanity has fallen. In its place, the calamity of division, dripping guns and ammunition, a recipe for annihilation. All across the airwaves, ads coaxing me to settle into the fray.
But here I stand, arms outstretched, light seeping through holes in the walls. With We the People at my side, the world looks not so bleary. Comes a maelstrom of lies to shield me from the dawn, but dawn arrives, leaving me to wonder why I ever was so blind to the ramblings of a tyrant bent on my destruction?
an oath broken
to reject the masses’ will
to survive
while the oak has lost its leaves
the heartwood remains
