2 + 2 = 5
When stuck between this and that
Just look to the middle
For the verity in a riddle
The simple task
Of which I ask
Is to think for yourself
Before that thought is put on a shelf
To gather dust from a dirt unjust
Only to burn from freedom spurned
The abyss of hate has never been great
And the great grow restless in the shadow of greed
While greed has yet to be freed.
The supremacy of being
The secret of sanctity
The value of validity.
Powers that be, redesign the meaning of free
But to see the beauty of a flower
Sleeps in our individual power
That forsakes the strategically placed fear
While we watch hate disappear.
History will be written with the plan
That freedom is earned in a Word learned
By the hand that has been bitten
With an excited delight in its patented right
To sit and think.
Whatever happened to the Influence of Ink?