When I Contemplate on Revolution

What if Iscariot denied all the silver
for salvation comes with no definite price,
Burned the old noose, returned to his village,
and decided to wash out the sins of his life?
What if the Christ came down from Golgotha
and condemned all the world to infinite strife?

What if Paul of Tarsus returned from Damascus
with a cold film of scales wrapped 'round his young eyes,
Illusions preserved, blindness intact,
oblivious that his soul weren't alive?
What if he left his letters unwritten,
at what wooden altars would reverends cry?

What if King Oedipus succumbed to Jocasta
and inquired no further to where questions led,
Preached about virtue, and heroic deeds
ignorant to the mother he wed?
What if Thebes flowered while his house fell apart,
as a royal crown rusting on a hypocrite's head?

What if Socrates spit out the hemlock
and damned his accusers for their heinous crimes,
Selfishness fed, intellect polished
and spent his last years enrapturing minds?
What if young Crito rejoiced at this wish
and made him an idol to stand for all time?

What if Prince Hamlet bowed down to detractors
shouting out insults "the Prince has gone mad!"
Could he avenge his father's lone killer,
and philosophize on humanity's path?
Would he have fallen to Laertes' sword,
would Fortinbras don him an honorable lad?

What if the Duke repealed his dark motives
and renounced the ill notion of selling a slave,
Would Mississippi grow up so commercial
or would their plantations wilt out and decay?
Could the spirit of Huck have mustered the courage
to deem Jim's humanity as something to save?

What if Napoleon examined his slogans
and valued true freedom as much as his gold,
Would Thenardier suffer in pure destitution,
would little Cosette cry out in the cold?
Could the people of Paris ignite a white fire
and burn down tyrannical powers of old?

What if we listened to the voice of our conscious
and disposed of our veils and withering masks,
Could we make peace with our worldly neighbors
could we taste freedom and justice at last?
The pendulum's swinging with balletic grace
waiting for us to fulfill this great task.