The Leader

He was grand yet humble, reserved but excited.
I was awestruck as he asked permission, and spoke.
He pointed to the dust at our feet, disappointed.
When he shook his head in despair, my world shook.
I felt sad with him, and followed his eyes down
To the spot where his mind had painted an image.
I saw our glum past, corrupt men and pithy towns
And our country entering a disgraceful old-age.

Then, when he looked up, into my moist eyes,
His gaze invited me into the theatre of his vision.
And I felt a yellow hope purring, budding inside
Unsure, insecure, but gently fighting indecision.
He shared his own fears with the entire room;
Spoke of dangers great, as grave as his stare.
And we in turn voices our fears of impending doom
And his and our fears collided above us, in mid-air.

He looked slowly up to the sparkling pyrotechnics,
And we all saw the silent laughter in his eyes.
We knew we were saved, to hell with the cynics!
He would lead us! Through valleys of fire to splendid highs!
And he spoke of the treasures in store for us
He urged us to forget, to grow, to progress!
Right above me, he sculpted a golden brilliance.
And we looked at it with awe, with a lust to possess.

I needed nothing more than the will of this man
To will mine into action, to will me into action.
And that man, with the eyes of a great artist
Ignited my insides, like the clear morning sun.


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