Against the False Promises

Against the False Promises

They proclaimed themselves the better men,
Promised banquets to top your tables,
Gold to line your empty pockets—
They fed you hunger.
They filled your hands with dust.
They drained the life from your veins
And called it freedom.
A vote, they said, was all you needed,
A choice between thieves and madmen—
But what choice is this?
What reason can be found in chaos?
Murderers wear masks of virtue,
Puppets dance for coin—
Your rulers change, yet they always remain
It's the same corrupting breed.
But think—what if, instead, there stood
One sovereign hand, both firm and just,
A guiding star in night's vast sea,
Not here today, gone tomorrow,
But rooted deep in ancient soil,
A monarch born to guard the land,
To hold it whole, not sell it piecemeal
To every bidder with a gilded tongue.
What peace to know the line unbroken,
A single voice, unbound by factions,
Standing above the noise and din—
The father, mother of the nation,
Crowned by more than mortal hands,
But by the weight of history's call.
Cast off these chains of endless choices,
This masquerade of freedom's face—
The constant bickering of lesser men.
Return to what your fathers lost,
A crown that knows no purchased vote,
But carries in its beating heart
A love for every humble soul.