The Stolen Verdict… ‘Pt2’

(WRITTEN IN HONOR OF THE GENTLE BECKONS OF CONSCIENCE)

Beyond the volatile floods of flowery words, the demise of long held pivotal tales was been cultured; and the remains thereof, to be partitioned

And partitioned indeed it would be: - and yet, into the hands of feeble babes

The labor of many a grievous nights been compromised in vessels of slender feel

Oh, to whom was speech given to alter this turn of history?

And yet, the chief messenger was confined to the caressing laps of silence

For the days light had blindfolded his composure and her ears had turned noisy with whispers

And yet, when a messenger is compromised, the armpits tell all the tales

For in the lofty corridors of power and privilege, the destinies of a host of enslaved were bargained

Whose turn was it? Why did it remain otherwise?
And so many other such questions were asked; on and on, questions were posed

And yet, deafening silence alone was left to brave itself against the secretions of raging passions

Now, beckoned to draw nigh, the sighs of laboring souls in earnest need to weed for others feed

Slaved to the numbness of numberless passions; eternity was decided on the scales of time

Adult suffrage suffers under the venoms of adults suffering in self-indoctrinated superstition

Laws are upheld, and yet, these are upheld in the foundations of lightly firmed up sand

Tip-toe they say; and yes, ‘tip toeing’ we sure would

But the reminisces of our adventure is all too soon parachuted into the deserts of tender time

Shall we readily awake to redeem the now lost advantage?

Well said; but all too later than need may beg of us

But shall we then sit aloof and embrace with defiance the seasons we bargained for?

Well said; but the laws upheld shall not lay silent at our misdemeanor

Or shall we crave the indulgence of time; that is, to sip a little deeply into our waning consciences?

But deafening silence was alone in defense
Indeed, a deep regret was felt, and yet for the curse of the gourds, the regret ought to stay concealed

For in the sands of time, many such stories lay; and yet, laborious man takes notice with royal dignity

History seemingly is repeating itself; the turn of a millennium is here; and yet, the historians, philosophers, clerics pass on with a glimpse

Who amongst us, the ‘Good Samaritan’, to ‘STOP! LOOK! LISTEN! ACT!’...?

But as before, none but silence turns up… with face now adorned in the shadows of pitiful pain

In short, the verdict, stolen it may be; but while upheld on the paws of malleable law, shall remedy if the fangs speak in time

For what is the use of a snake charmer, after the viper has sunk its lofty unsuspecting prey?

NativeDr,
NII
Rite-life Freelancer
( [email protected] , 0266 650 605)