The world is lit by the grandeur of man
Fed by the grace of her hand
Backs bent,
In communion with the soil.
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Whose endless love,
Whose thankless toil;
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With the last sun searing summer skies
Spilled out on borrowed land
Flames out with silent cries
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“When then now will we reap our own?â€
What generation after generation has sown
For all this we will not be spent:
The magnates,
The parasites can have our rent;
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We will not be docile,
Nor repent
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For the sins of our masters.
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For the kingdom of heaven is of the broken,
For the kingdom of heaven is of the wretched,
For the kingdom of heaven will pay us a living wage;
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Sisters, brothers,
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Even the skies can hear your rage.
~~~~
by Lilith Xseraph