A Jeremiad
Old fields grown green which once were red with fire,
And young eyes that ancient virtues now despise,
Face once again the threat of angry ruin
As ideologies take on new forms,
And civil war prepares to turn the page.
Fresh barbarisms flush out decadence.
Those who believe in nothing will die first.
Though elites prat on of liberality,
With shutters barred against the growing dark,
None now speak of the end of history.
A culture dies one province at a time,
When, street by street, fanaticism rules;
A battle lost by minute increments,
Until there's nothing left but a facade
Of what once was, and quickly swept away;
A legacy of freedom finally lost,
Defeated by the emptiness within.
And young eyes that ancient virtues now despise,
Face once again the threat of angry ruin
As ideologies take on new forms,
And civil war prepares to turn the page.
Fresh barbarisms flush out decadence.
Those who believe in nothing will die first.
Though elites prat on of liberality,
With shutters barred against the growing dark,
None now speak of the end of history.
A culture dies one province at a time,
When, street by street, fanaticism rules;
A battle lost by minute increments,
Until there's nothing left but a facade
Of what once was, and quickly swept away;
A legacy of freedom finally lost,
Defeated by the emptiness within.
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