Abused By Illusions

Rough-hewn granite and flame
form the cornerstone of allegory.

A man's memory laid in masonry
lit by the flame of collective dreams.

The plumb and rule of law restrained
the ethereal flash of the child of peace.

In the flame for a moment we discern
encroaching shadows dispelled by
fiery torch passed to a rare generation.

Eyes trace the winding mortar road
as it tells the twisting tale of liberty.

Societies preference for silent reminder
strikes the mind like the philosophers stone.

We must ponder where we'd have been if
up that hill of wisdom we had followed him.

Three white flowers haunt my thoughts of who he
could have been, who he was, and who he dreamt us to be.

The shadows he exorcised once more do rise and
both threaten and promise real and cathartic death.

Let us raise again his flame to illuminate the path
from the sepulcher of cynicism toward the door
which opens once more to the coming dawn.

© C.I. Abramson, 2004

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