Flags hang day and night,
to symbolize hope.
Hopes swiftly fly high,
held by thin sheer ropes.
Ropes made of sharp thorns,
cut worn callused hands.
Hands become so scorned,
as knowledge expands.
Expands pure power,
kept hidden inside.
Inside the tower,
where energies hide.
Hides what scared egos,
refuse to accept.
Accept, bright light flows,
dismiss all the rest.
The rest fills up needs,
a balancing act.
Acts done without greed,
ensures love attracts.
Attracts a new path,
opens many roads.
Roads lead to success,
new journeys unfold.
- Grace Y. Estevez - Reddy
Written in response to Crimson Creative Challenge # 221, hosted by Crispina Kemp
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