Let Her Dance

The only sound in a sea of silence is that of flames crackling in the abyss of urban wasteland. The revolution of the ignorant and ill informed have opened the floodgates of anarchy rule in a catastrophic fog that will only thicken with time. Chaos is the only defense against the men who thrive in business casual button ups. They seek to destroy the voice that lies within through the fear of financial loss and the death of common morality. The city has been left to burn and only the ash from the blaze will rain from the endless sky of yesterdays opportunities lost.
Standing with the strength of a gladiator next to a ballot box charred to just a frame, she waits for the dawn. Her eyes are still and tell tales of lessons learned through the brutality of our great war. Her hair moves with the wind gusts and as it dances with the movement of the evening air, it resembles the tattered fabric of red white and blue stripes hung at half-mast. Her presence is power and her image is divine. She is beautiful and she will endure. She is a symbol. Hope is not an idea. It is the trigger to our greatest weapon. Inspiration. She will stand tall through the storm and when the clouds clear, there she will be just as before.