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On the lawn.
That green space.
Near the monuments of a freedom not yet fully realized.
The air stands calm and listens.

One came who would hold up his brothers.
One came who would give the weak a proud voice.
One came who would change the world.
His words are of true freedom.
His words are of the power of love.
His words are of peace to all the world.

The seasons cycle 47 times.
Nature looks down upon the toiling of mankind but pays it no mind.
His voice again bring hope to many.
But as before the shouts of hatred crash back against his words of peace.

One comes who would stand where he stood.
One comes who would speak to many.
One comes who would claim the mantle.
But his words are not of peace but of division.
But his words are not of love but of hatred.
But his words are not of tolerance but bigotry.

The good man's dream was a gift to the world.
This man's 'dream' is a gift for himself alone.

On the lawn.
That green space.
Near the monuments of a freedom not yet fully realized.
The air divides and turns away.