Hidden fire

This seen, but unseen fire deep within, 
nearly ignited or sparked by cold moist hands of a capitalistic world
Clammy with lust, desperation, and fear
Holding onto its fuse of strength and educational purpose.   

The fire is a passionate hope, radical but a poetic justice free to be observed
As if the phoenix rose from the depths of its dark, ashy grave reborn
Soaring high above the clouds, radiant as a blossoming flower in the Oregon spring. 

With flames so warm it thaws frozen hearts of lost souls
Marching to the cadence of foretold economic status and wealth.   

The flames are called revolution taught by our ancestors,
Supressed by colonialism, slavery, and treacherous policies
we have not yet learned to overcome.   

But do not be discouraged and don’t be dismayed. 
Allow this fiery consciousness to awaken the giant within
That roars loud as a lion, tamed to speak as a prophet, born to carry its people.   

Calculate its Morse code, combusting into tidal waves of actions
Large as the ocean seas of the hidden Pacific. 
Causing landslides of the mass erupting revelations.  

So tend to this hidden fire and kindle it. 
For one day it will ignite revolution.

-Christopher Briggs