A Flag Turns Into an Eagle
As above, so below. This is a poetic reflection of the cosmic forces shaping the destiny of a nation on the brink of transformation.
The flag wavers, heavy with time,
fractured by shadows, stained with crime.
Power struggles tear through the land,
as hidden forces play their hand.
Truth emerges from veils so thin,
secrets unravel, where to begin?
Foreign ties crumble, illusions fade,
long-standing agendas removed from shade.
At the edge of fate, a leader stands,
grasping control in his trembling hands.
A moment sealed, the people torn,
false power dies, not all will mourn.
Diplomacy steps to center stage,
yet the weight of change ignites a rage.
A reckoning comes, swift and true,
the course of history shifts anew.
The empire shakes, its coffers thin,
where wealth was stable, cracks begin.
Restrictions tighten, control takes hold,
as silver turns dust, and paper grows cold.
Yet from collapse, new roots will rise,
creative souls, untainted minds.
Idols once worshipped fade to dust,
youth now shape the future trust.
A shroud of silence veils the land,
Emotions swell, reason banned.
Drowning in waters deep and wide,
adrift in currents we cannot guide.
The sky distorts, the stars grow strange,
And far below, the embers rage.
An unseen force begins to wake,
as the earth beneath us starts to quake.
The ground splits open, the air turns cold,
Electric surges, fate unfolds.
The land reshapes in ways untold,
A shift in power, the people take hold.
A silence lingers, brief but vast,
the world holds breath, the die is cast.
Trade lines flicker, wealth redefined,
currency bends, redrawn, realigned.
Technology surges, a force untamed,
the old world trembles, forever changed.
Hands once bound now break their chains,
in rising storm, our voice remains.
Through streets they march, through fields they toil,
demanding justice for sweat and soil.
A call for justice, fierce and wild,
for hands that labor, for the exiled.
No longer silent, no longer still,
the ones who build now break their will.
From fire and dust, she claims her throne,
not as a queen, but as her own.
With law in hand, she strikes the ground,
the towers shake, the walls break down.
The old world cracked, resistance fades,
a new formation through fire is made.
And from the ruin, strength is spun,
A surge of love, the fight is done.
The veil removed, the truth revealed,
the names of those who held the shield.
No longer silent, no longer blind,
the people rise, life redefined.
The chains of power break apart,
self-sufficiency fuels the heart.
A kingdom shifts, its time was done,
Yet from the wreckage, a new dawn comes.
by Heather Mattoon, in the Year of Rebellion.
March 2025
