There comes a time in life that the music stops playing
Then they begin to gather in front of town hall.
A loud voice from the crowd of men, women, and children of all ages
If only we had time to hear them all.
Pickett signs here today and gone swift but the faces and words will still be posted
Inside rooms, galleries, and on the history of museum walls.
Centuries to come and decades gone past, cheers to the thousand aisles of life and liberty
Then what beseeches the thunder of our thoroughbred stalls.
Is this again the question of beginnings, beginning of time, mankind, and slavery endings
Speak out a tribune unity, so that we don’t let our cares fall.
On that six thousandth link, I place my hand up high for hope not despair
With the bells of angels ringing over the shoulder breast upright and tall.
On Justice, on chariot, full speed ahead, on many colors of the world
Linked to seven thousand years waiting for Freedom’s call.
Poetry