The shimmering cold of the night, fills our souls with fright.
So we light a candle for the cause, give it our eye as it grows, because:
We watch as its light fills the dark, and so we bring fuel to this spark.
We can see the truth within its flame, we can feel the suns holy claim.
An axiom before our very eyes, our chance for hope, our chance to rise.
Never again shall we be chilled, this candle will our history rebuild!
So we look upon its holy fire, and watches as it grows ever higher.
One day our candle becomes a pyre, blazing away on-top the spire.
We take a second to name this flame; giving it both renown and fame.
The fire continues to grow ever tall, burning everything, while healing all.
The fire spreads to every shore, bringing light to every door.
None can ignore its truthful light, none can withstand its divine sight.
Will it ever reach the sky, will the flames ever die?
It keeps on burning bright, until there's nothing left within its sight.
And when there's nothing left to burn, the flames will die out, the fires will adjourn.
From the ashes a kingdom shall rise, casting away its predecessors demise.
It shall build upon the freedom cries, deceiving them with its lies.
And we shall fall for its disguise, becoming enslaved once again to its revise.
YOU ARE READING
Twisted Aptitude
PoetryPoetry of the finest kind. Within these pages lies words that will blow your mind. Twisted and turned around, the curves and the arcs of my designation will astound. Each poem tells a lie, to reveal the truth that within them apply. Reveal them if y...
