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The Blind
Their cries for peace give rise to strife,
And still they blindly raise their voices
Fleeing Truth and taking life,
Blind to the outcome of their choices.
Hating True Love, loving passion,
Hating all forms of containment,
Living for the whim of fashion,
Trading Joy for entertainment,
“Freedom, liberty!” they cry
While bowing to the gods of pleasure,
“Leave us free to touch the Sky!”
But here on earth they take their leisure.
Will they see? When will the curtain
Of their ignorance be torn?
When will Truth and Love for certain
Triumph o’er this rising storm?
Is there Light in all this darkness?
Is there Hope in spite of hate?
If there is, can it still save us?
Is the hour not too late?
Can we, feeble weakened mortals, turn our ruinous course around,
Or will blindness be the master till the Final Trumpet sounds?
- by Ecthelion of Gondolin |
- Poetry And Lyrics
- | Submitted on 05/17/2009 |
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Comments (2 Comments)
- God_of_Skills - 05/22/2009
- I love the poem. It's very well worded, and it flows well too. It makes perfect sense without being spelled out. You are the only 5 star I have given so far.
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- Cottoncandyocbra3 - 05/17/2009
- Yes, adequately put forth and in a rousing manner, if not a bit overdone in the cynical poetics formula. I've a many socially critical works.
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