You speak with passion and then you speak with fire.
Your words are hollow expressions seeking audience.
Temper your thoughts with wisdom as you speak of the ideas
Kept within your heart.
We are not the first to fall from such heights.
How can we stand in such stillness,
listening for the echoes of those who came before?
like drops of water in a cavern they announce their presence.
There once was a dream called Rome where an emperor ruled.
A Senate decided the fate of those who would follow.
A Republic where free men ruled, it provided light to all of Europe,
But at what cost was that candle kept lit?
Lead lined plumbing doused its fire,
But not before it consumed itself.
The majesty and glory that was Rome,
collapsed upon foundations shaken by time,
Urged on by those that would foster a new morality.
Leaders cried out, only to fade, then arise from the ashes,
They supported yet more memories of what was to remain but instead died.
It can never be the same though,
We have tried to resurrect that which was best in our interests,
So I ask who truly benefits?
Oh the glory of tradition applied sparingly provides a guide to future rewards,
yet we squander greatness as we trample all signs of law and discipline.
A Gladiator or a Patriot, but who is which,
Why do they allow partisan arguments and egotistical agendas to wash away all hope.
Is this not an echo from Rome, cheers from the coliseum?
Senators take heart for there is strength to be found in the vineyards,
And wisdom to be found in poets and statesmen alike for we share a vision,
Once there was a dream called Rome.
