We the people a promise spoken,
Carved in ink that challenged
time.
Yet every generation pauses to ask,
If those words still truly shine.
Who
were the people first imagined?
Whose voices echoed in that call?
Did every
heart stand in the circle,
Or were some left beyond the wall?
How many years,
how many footsteps?,
How many tears were paid in full?,
Before the dream of equal
standing,
Began to outweigh ancient rule.
What was the struggle truly seeking?,
A
flag, a nation, liberty's flame?
Or the right for every human soul,
To live with
dignity and name?
Can freedom belong to only a few,
While others wait outside
the gate?
Can justice wear a single face,
And still be worthy of its weight?
They frights are gifts, then whose are they?
Can truth be divided by blood or birth?
Does the breath that fills one life,
Not fill every child upon this earth?
No
hand that shaped the stars above,
Would measure worth by race or land.
The light
that rises with each dawn,
Falls gently on every outstretched hand.
Until no
life is counted lesser,
Until no voice is cast aside,
The question lives in
every age,
Who stands within, and who outside?
Perhaps the answer is not
written,
In parchment, power, or decree.
It lives each time we choose another,
As worthy of humanity.
Only then will "We the People"
Become more than history's
refrain,
A living vow that every person,
May walk in freedom, free from chains.