The politics of fire, The politics of flame, Throw the past upon the pyre, And burn it with the sane. The books of great men’s learning, Make good tinder for the flame, Burn their ancient yearning, And curse their hallowed names. Look now upon the buildings, That old wise hands have made, See how their walls are tilting, Beneath the torrents of our rage. The torrent roaring fire, Born from just a flame, That eats without desire, Is a beast that can’t be tamed. When men are made of straw, And their feet like blocks of wood, They gaze and gape and gaw, But they don’t do what they should. They should put out the fire, But they are too ashamed, The arson they inspired, Has at last come home again. Politics is real, Word don’t matter naught, The things the leaders say, Incite the people’s thought. Or rather what they don’t, For they are not such men, Who speak when they are needed, But these just are not them. Where has gone our Churchill? Or Charlemagne, De Gaulle? Have the Visigoths returned, And we have no one to call? The Vandals and the Vikings, Brought with them first the fire, And now they are come back, To lift their flames up higher. The politics of fire, Belong to the insane, All true men of wisdom, Prefer to pray for rain. But these are not true men, Who gaze upon the blaze, They are made of straw, Bodies that lack a brain. Wise men clear the brush, Before when times are tame, But fools they never learn, That’s why they go on just the same. Will all our countries burn, Is the West just left for chaff? Is this our Grecian Urn? Are we now cast to the past? Baudelaire and Montequieu, Descartes and wise Montagne, Are you now just left to burn, Will nothing else remain? And how long till the embers, Of the French nation ablaze, Leap across the open borders, And set our world aflame? The politics of fire, That all these fools have preached, Have brought what they admired, To their homes and to their streets. First the Holy Temple, Was sacked by burning rage, And now what’s left of Rome, Has taken center-stage. When all the fuel is burnt, From the pillars to the page, Then we’ll know the cost, Of worshipping the flame.
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Spread Love, Spread Light,
Am Yisrael Chai
Well done!!!