Yes, we’ve scaled
the mountain top;
no longer the children
of Sisyphus—we’re
descending to the valley
of a promised land.
We’ve arrived
where we must still
sow seeds swollen
with the pregnancy
of our eternity:
freedom planted—
blooming liberation.
Come chained children
chasing doubtful dreams deferred;
come—cultivating crude clods
of the promise land;
come—scattering
sowed sweet seminal seeds
of our eternity.
Like roaring running rivers
between their banks—
cascading to sea—let us too,
keep freedom flowing free.