A Poem by Eilidth Hamilton (C) 03/11/2020

There is a wraith in the heart of progress,

A voice that cries out: ‘Go forth, do not digress.”

To be a sphinx is no mystery,

To be a seraph is to lie incessantly,

It is the will of the optimist verses the will of a man,

Which will prevail? Which one can?

For that is the reason, the cause in which they ran,

To thrive in the blood of policies,

To drink its life force with personal goal,

The excursion will take its toll,

Each throat shall pulse,

As they convulse to each syllable like shock is to the body,

And their words shall promote the rise or fall to all,

But what of the optimist? What of a man?

A podium of supporters, they know opinion is power,

Meanwhile the optimist and the man watch from the tower,

And overthrow their souls to the masses,

Lecturers calling out to some distant classes,

And shall this all be in vain?

The eye is no longer difficult to train,

The man knows his worth,

The optimist believes in the cloud,

And each shall shout aloud:

“Here I am, the time has come, for you people to decide who has won.”   

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