It lit fires when fires were not,
And burnt the mind of men;
Tempering leadened Hearts to steel,
From the Time that Time began.
It wept by the waters of Babylon,
And when all men were a loss;
It screeched in writhing agony,
And hung bleeding from the Cross.
And in defiant cruel array;
When the deathly word was "Spartacus",
Along the Apian Way.
It marched with Wat the Tyler's poor,
And frightened lord and king;
And it was emblazoned in their deathly stare,
As e'er a living thing.
It smiled in Holy innocence,
Before conquistadors of olde;
So meek and tame and unaware,
Of the deathly power of gold.
It burst forth through pitiful Paris streets,
And stormed the olde Bastile;
And marched upon the serpent's head,
And crushed it 'neath its heel.
It died in blood on Buffalo Plains,
And starved by moons of rain;
Its Heart was buried at Wounded Knee,
But it will come to rise again.
It screamed aloud by Kerry lakes,
As it knelt upon the ground;
And it died in great defiance,
As they coldly shot it down.
It is found in every Light of Hope,
It knows no bounds nor space;
It has risen in Red and Black and White,
It is there in every Race.
It lies in the Hearts of Heroes dead,
It screams in tyrant's eyes;
It has reached the peaks of mountains high,
It comes searing 'cross the skies.
It Lights the Dark of this prison cell,
It thunders forth its might;
It is "The Undauntable Thought", my friend,
That thought that says, "I'm right."
2 January, 2015