Mirabeau
T'was the falling of dawn,
Thy mind the place of ideas born.
A spark of light in the dark blossoming,
A flame, a conflagration in the creating.
The will to challenge what was the norm,
The strength to maintain the current form.
Isolation and accusations cut to the core,
Beastly vile words come to the fore.
Heresy, blasphemy, nonconformity
Madness, insanity, flights of fallacy.
In light of one they shall unite,
Society, cutting short an individual's flight.
Yet, irony, unbeknown to all,
The future they seek, it shall fall.
The future, belongs to one to create,
He lives, he dies, there shall be debate.
Ideas, sown, like the seeds of change,
The strong shall thrive, the meek shall faint.
But for the Martyr, who gave his soul,
All is worth, more so than gold.
For his selfless sacrifice,
He has helped us roll the dice.
And once this dice stops all revolutions,
All shall change, for this is, evolution.
