Is a word a sword if you raise it high enough?
Does it cut and tear through guarded minds like hot steel?
Or does it fall on heavy shoulders as you kneel
While other knights let blades touch their necks just as rough?
What beast breathes its flame on disarmed huddled masses
With fury and spite kindling fear in weaker hearts?
Does it shine with scales of years, drenched in gold and blood,
Born of discontent in a world so imperfect?
What need for words that cut, burn and bind do we have
When we can weather storms in huts of glowing glass,
Each one an image of dreams we design to last
Each one blown down by flames we blot out beforehand.
Arm yourselves, make a castle out of your conscious!
Build it high with morals, strong with your deepest needs
And lay a foundation that can absorb earthquakes
As no truth holds constant in a prepared kingdom.
So when that dragon comes, from one voice or legion
To your shores drive out all noises without reason
For a day may come when you find your truth undone
And no grace exists beyond honest decision.