From my narrow pane of vision,
Through a shade of tinted rose
I looked upon our fated path
As a righteous dream imposed.
We have strayed from the asphalt,
To a sea of rising fear.
But through the sea is a road to Eden.
Hope past the grim veneer.
Like vagabonds of the blinding night,
We have wandered, growing weary .
Walking towards no specific binding right.
And of any luminescent path, all men are rightly leery.
But from this chaotic way has come a man,
Whose skin is darker than the mold.
He sings a healing siren song
That calls us from the cold.
He is more than oratory power,
More than a pragmatic mind.
He is our collective bated breath,
Our most audacious road sign.
He is a mosaic of the races.
Like the melding of two avenues.
But who transcends colored faces,
To break the ancient platitudes.
Our dreams are now resounding,
As our own strength is vindicated.
Though the devil’s hammer’s pounding
Carves a road for the weak and floundering,
We have henceforth indicated
That our willingness to reach for change
With no contingency to bare
Builds a road through rough terrain
And pulls hope from black despair.
