The Pan & the Fire


by Morgan Graham

A thousand free men,
boot over boot,
marching to the fading rythm
of a broken drum…

They were quietly dying
amindst the roar
of a People gone sightless
who cried out for more.

A People whose children,
gape mouthed with hunger,
would never know wisdom,
ownership, and wonder.

Their nation, once brave,
once ambitious and true,
became a ship quickly sinking –
its hull rotted through.

Their Teachers taught only
the virtue of tearing
down the institutions once thought
as noble, as daring.

Their Leaders were mortals
with hubris and arrogance
who resented their foundation
with its intended elegance.

They stripped their champions
and proclaimed them profane.
They delighted in distribution,
of equality, in vain.

They wished any and all
of their deities to die
and scrubbed all fresh minds
with derision and lye.

Coveting and avarice became
their devotionals
their fashionably sensitive
became unapproachables.

They stirred a great pot
and fed the weakness of man
to fight amongst themselves-
all according to plan.

The mighty fell, and they
delighted to see
their heros shamed-
the burning of Three.

The rewards and riches,
once earned by sweat
were the spoils of all
of the Leadership’s pets.

There is nothing left
but ruins and rot
but it solved the problem
of to have, or have not.

Too many chose
to gladly now be
elite amongst the enslaved,
than equals amongst the free.

A thousand lost men,
boot over boot,
marching to the long gone rythm
of a long silenced drum
were heard from
….no more.


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