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A warrior stands in front an army as they charge toward him. He puts his broad sword's hilt to his forehead pointing upward in prayer / meditation, the sky opens up upon a dark and dreary scene, a shaft of light opens up and curling ribbons of light come down to touch his sword. He has an expression of quite contemplation, as the army charges him. Grand master work, mixed medium, mana from heaven, divine intervention, inked highlight, fantasy realism, pencil realism, granger, resolve in the face of unimaginable odds.
An Ode to the Judges Who Fear
We see you there, cloaked in law,
Bound by words, yet gripped by awe.
Gavel poised, yet hands do shake—
Not for justice, but what’s at stake.
The halls of power press and loom,
A whispered threat, a silent doom.
Will you stand, or bow, or bend?
Is this where justice meets its end?
You wear the robe but know the weight—
The nation teeters, bound to fate.
Not in parchment, nor decree,
But in the death of liberty.
For justice is nothing if made a scam,
A hollow thing—a broken dam.
A judge may rule, but not alone—
The people's rise, truth will be known.
If fear would cow you then turn away,
Hear the tides shift, new break of day.
The watchers wait, the world is keen,
The line is drawn, our choice is seen.
Uphold the law—uphold the truth!
Or be cast aside in a justice moot.
For silence here is coward’s chains,
And what you shrink from dies in flames.
So let the people raise their call,
Stand firm, or watch the nation fall.
Not in shadows, not in shame—
Let justice live, or die in name.
Our eyes are fixed upon the courts,
A reckoning comes, no king’s retort.
United we stand, tyranny crumbles,
In division, we bear witness to our fall.
We the brave, keepers of justice’s cry,
Shatter this broken mold, or allow truth to die.
Civitasvox
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