Veneration of Misplaced Shrines

More about Veneration of Misplaced Shrines

Oh, statues raised to men of lead,
They do not hear the countless dead.
Monuments stand proud, lips sing praise,
Haunted specters walk a hollow path.

What honor lies in ordering blood and chains?
Rancid wisdom speaks through willing blindness.
A book unread, a truth untold, demise beckons.
Their hands grasp, for what they know, the cold.

Revolutions burn, then sink to rust
Their embers choked by power’s lust .
To name them saints, to carve them high,
Is to let old tyrants never die, let them die.

No throne of steel, no empire put on high,
Would you deafen cries that pierce the night?
And those who lack will, bow before their reign,
You will know the abyss for which you cheer.

Tear down the myths, unmask the lies, truth's breath,
Let history speak, standing light is where silence dies.
No justice thrives on hollow lore—be the change.
Raise truth instead, challenge praise once more.

Let the dead speak their sacrifice, praise their life instead.

Civitasvox
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