Tyrants and Kings

Fire backlights a cross,

a melee below.

Discord and dissolution,

just another night raid,

in the time

of the silent foe.

 

The window is the eye.

The doorway is the lips.

The center of the soul

is exposed

only through this.

 

The outstretched hand

gives help and care,

until it holds you by the throat,

and grabs you by the hair.

That’s when I awoke,

and felt the stillness of the air,

as if on cue,

the archer drew,

and you were no longer there.

 

We are not prepared,

of that,

I am sure, now.

When up against the wall,

we didn’t hear the call,

even though it was so loud.

 

The night that freedom fell,

we never said a word,

we never took up arms,

we stayed away from harm,

and our homes became our cells.

 

We never spoke again,

until the time came,

and then it was too late

to turn back on the gate,

and remember all the names

of those we lost along the way.

 

Fire,

and the shouts of many

in the night.

Blood and battle,

or just the last days

of this life?

 

The circle comes around,

and tyrants and kings

take their delight,

unless the people are moved,

for what they must do,

is walk

in the Truth

and the Light.

 

Don’t give up the fight.

 

 

 

HG – 2020

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