The dying embers
Flicker and flutter
In final gasps
Of freedom and truth.

The wind is silent
Afraid to move.
In the bushes hide,
Watchful eyes.

Afraid to fly,
In the open skies.
Birds are hiding
In shrinking cages.

Distrust in the air
Suspicious minds
Mobs on a rampage
Blind in hate.

The silence of the few
Watching in fear
Regretting the death
Of their soothing voice

Leaders are stooges
And artists are mimes.
Cult of devotees
Is gaining ground.