The Leader...a poem
By Tony DeLorger © 2012
A paragon of justice,
a pristine soul of right,
until of course survival's choice,
dictates the course of light.
Pandering to the masses,
in words of strength, resolve,
to undertake righteous answers,
our dreams and hopes absolved.
But when the office door closes,
and the shadows of pledges appear,
when open hands demanding,
contend with all that's dear.
What then of light and the course of men,
whose ambitions impair the good,
and in debt the leader to deal with,
and in action balance, install.
In the dark of night, in silence,
in a bed as cold as ice,
decisions made come haunting,
to be qualified, just and right.
The leader remains at the edge of abyss,
between the moral, the wrong and the result,
clinging to that square inch of remaining self,
that through circumstance is rarely felt.
What matters in the end is fortitude,
and a heart that really cares,
for without it corruption and a sadder world,
will guide us to despair.
Vote from the heart.
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