Liberty

… so we love the artists less

A step removed from death

Farther from, and yet

Closer to truth too

With art as argument

Subjective logic spent

Breaking mores lent

Their ancestors few

Their tongues of flesh or feather

Of hair, of string, of leather

A palliative endeavour

To speak true

Of feeling more than we can hold

Of knowing less that can be told

The form of grief they best uphold

At last outlasted too

Their promise is not liberty

Their liberty is you

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