Architects Of Progress

it was a path, a road, a way forwardit was not just any other dayyet, in a sense, it could have beenhad it been the unusual sunshinethe melodies of the birdsor something in the airlures materialshe now knew emptyshe had chosen progressit had become possibleit was a number, a goal, an idealit was not just any other whimyet, in a sense, how could it be otherwise ?had it been the many disappointmentsthe memories of defeator having crossed a thresholdliars promiseshe had seen throughhe had chosen loyaltyit had become feasibleit was a knowledge, a lifestyle, a necessityit was not just any other alternativeyet, in a sense, there were always optionshad it been the discourses of the punditsthe words of the seersor a quiet recognitionsongs of sirensthey had resistedthey had chosen patienceit had become attainableit was a vision, a sentiment, a convictionit was not just any other dreamyet, it a sense, what else could it be ?had it been the flash of understandingthe rush of inspirationor a surge of hope at the eleventh hourthree little wordswe had rememberedwe had chosen perseveranceit had become inevitablebeyond the eleventhlater but not too lateunrest until unchainedeven past fifty-ninewilling to be ourselvesin time to help ourselveslonging to find ourselveslearning to love ourselvesvying for our freedomor suffer status quothe choice had been easyenough, we had shouted !beginning on this dayliberty was our wayour space became our ownconsciously, we had grown

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Architects Of Progress

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