Calls of righteous pride scream out into a heated expanse.
Fire and water crash into thunder. A steam that seems only to rise.
Newly-opened eyes look around and see nothing but anger.
Division --The Great Vice-- threatens to tear what decades have let thrive.
And a battle of words not weapons. Fought over radio waves and power lines made of industry from decades past. An industry that seems forgotten.
A collective spirit struck. A long-lived harmony conflicted. And Us.
Between two symbols the crusade was fought, ripping apart frayed threads and trembling fabric. A blanket in tatters.
Divided selves, divided families, and divided communities. A divided land.
A frayed quilt-- the entirety of everything that was and is this land. Bloodshed and brotherhood. Science and progress. Unity and freedom. Onward determination and backbone.
Now the patches of generations and ideologies are loose, pulled at by the winds of our devise. And yet we continue cutting, hoping to make a distinction from our neighbor.
But we're our neighbor just as much as they are us. Because we're one. A unity that seems forgotten.
And when the quilt collapses and falls. When everything is broken and forsaken, who are we to blame when we hold the scissors?
Abstract institutions? A symbol for something greater? A corruption that we despise? Or perhaps a division from before us?
We built the institutions, and supported the symbols, and fed the corruption, and created the division. We must blame ourselves, not the things we created.
And when we hold the thimble and needle, who are we to look to?
Not our creations for they are finite. And not our symbols for they are ephemeral. In the end our collective identity is all that will last the tests of destruction and hardship.
In the end we must look at ourselves. Because we are the only ones who can sew the division.