Riddles in the Dark
The storm cloud swirls and descends quite slowly,
Closing in on all that breathes,
Silently, and thoroughly unholy,
It comes to steal, kill, and destroy.
We talk about Freedom, and we talk about war,
Capitalist Chiefs, and riddles in the dark,
We build our own fears until they become more,
Until they surround us, blind us, and paralyze our spark.
Truth fades away beneath its innocent costume,
Tromped on and spat upon in ignorant bliss,
As the voices of the past with hope we exhume,
Proclaiming from the ramparts, “Let freedom ring!”
“What you can’t see will kill you, if you let it,”
But we shake our heads in naive disbelief,
While darkness creeps closer to completely overtake us,
To surgically remove our personal choices.
If we would but dare to take a valiant stand,
If we could only escape your own skin,
If we would merely dare to believe, then
Check for monsters and lock the door.
Maybe then we’d learn to appreciate,
All our forefathers fought to preserve:
The bundle of rights that serves to guide us,
And the right to pursue the happiness we desire.