The Chariot of Fire

Tradition I spite thee in thy face
For thou maketh slaves of free men
What right do thou possess?
To govern the desires of rational men

Thy reign is cursed
For in rehashing a forgotten past
And in stubbornly rejecting
The winds of change that sweep past thy lands
Thou not knowest the finer virtues that men may boast of
Freedom, love and choice are denied to thee
Only the emptiness of honour and duty
Ring across your vast expanses

Has thou ever lain underneath the starry skies
Without a care in the world
Or tread barefoot through a rainstorm
Mounted the tallest peak
And wondered what it would be like
To sprout wings and fly

I turn my back upon thee
And go to make my own lands
Riding out on the chariot of fire
Far from the sorrows thou has inflicted upon me
There where no edict of a byegone era
Will rule my destiny
For in choosing to become my own master
I am blessed

Believe

Wherein lies the power to win
To scale mountains
And brave storms if you may
Struggle to the surface
Choking on huge mouthfuls of air
When everything within thyself impels thou
To close thy eyes
And to a dreamless sleep descend.
To push thyself against every gale
And sometimes even against thyself

What inspires men to shoulder arms
And fight against a faceless foe
Searching deep within
To eject the demons from their very soul
To follow a new path day after day
Even if stood they
At the very ends of the earth

And therein lies modern education’s gravest flaws
For it obscures what a mere child might understand
Faith can lend wings to any purpose
It can let thy soar
Till neither the deepest gorge
Nor the loftiest peak
Might dare defy thou

But in the quest for success
Thy faith will stand the ordeal
For between here and the gates of redemption
Full many a corpse thy might discover
Of those who did not believe
Or merely gave up.