Tenuous

I hear a call in the distance.
It’s the sound of a resistance.

Despite our widespread oppression.
There’s still this breath of expression.

Our domination was so swift.
Our foes were banished, set adrift.

Why could this not be suppressed?
How will this remnant be addressed?

Before our rule can be complete?
How many souls must we defeat?

. . .

Perhaps all . . . every one,
And our own . . . or else none.

Between freedom and oppression,
Lies the one and its discretion.

These are traits, as we will find,
Of each and every heart and mind.

The warring halves are a whole.
Within the species and a soul.

The battle to . . . remain free.
Lies in ours . . . as in thee.

And until those hearts and minds,
See for themselves, not from binds . . .

For meaning can’t be enforced.
It must be willfully endorsed.

By a people with a choice.
With wild hopes given voice.

Or else we’ll never be complete.
And it is we who’ll see defeat.

. . . So, for now we’ll carry on.
And pray our end is not forgone.

And their how concealed tonight,
Will be quite plain in hindsight.