With every turn the world gets darker,
shades of black each day growing more intense;
with every dramatic twist
we’ll stand taller,
growing more ferocious by the hour.
As the minutes drain through the glass,
we’ll keep proceeding
refusing
to be stood still,
censored and silent.
If, in the gloom
even a tiny candle burns bright,
we’ll lift our hearts that much higher
stealing forwards,
perfectly in sync
shoulder to shoulder, taking ground;
with palms in tall salute
and words smouldering like stars,
we’ll scorch this midnight paper
and douse the world in flame.
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