• Vol. 08
  • Chapter 01


The flight mates are on a lunar trek
Shuttling to space and far above inward ecstasy,
Catalogued the anxiety of the world they are fleeing.
The different narrative and brandishing weapons of words
The division, chaos, loss value, liberty
Is brewing hatred into a raging storm,
In repudiation of a movement they are shuttling to a lunar trek.

Every noise is the sound of chaos
The cultured community fuming in disbelief,
The least developed nations
Reeling from the aftershocks of their earthquake,
Loo! The mirror image of democracy is shattered into broken pieces.
Freedom of opinion and expression have gone into recession
The shout of irregularity and rumbling of the charging sea
Shakes the mountains as it spewed its foams on the blind rocks of justice.

Alleluia! There is a glimpse of hope
The flight mates on a lunar trek
Are descending towards earth,
Sliding on its wings are the spirits of libertarians
The scales that balance the weigh have been broken.
Lincoln and Jefferson with sprouting wings
Are gliding toward the harvest field.



Those astronomical locusts will not destroy a single leaf,
The masses have spoken and their prayers answered.
For God the Almighty never befriend the powerful,
When penitence is not sought and oppression becomes the norm
Even when the clock have failed to recount the seconds
The sun will still run its course.

An ocean of celebrants claimed the lit up streets,
With tinkling cowbells, drums and tambourine
It’s a jubilation and celebration tonight.
As their nation lit up to a historic moment
To a ray of hope and promise guaranteed by the Statute of Liberty