The great project
That flame in Liberty’s hand
That once burned so bright
Is now an ember.
Crushed by a ‘Nyet’
A ‘Non Serviam’
A rejection of order
A few, a select few only, can bring her back.
For we have nothing
Nothing if we do not have order
Chaos does not rule as the rule designed
A door that closes or opens by the rule.
And those who say no, by right of the law
Not by their whim
But by recollection on the rule
Become the focus of the ire
And those who fail to nod
To dip their lid to power correctly ruled
Have nothing but ego
Starving the flame of oxygen.
And I think of a man, not all that long ago
Who stood, alone against the might of steel and wheel.
Truth is often that small.
Paul Russell: Musings 