Beneath the vaulted heavens I tread,
Hooves caressing the sands where dreams are shed.
A cosmic observer of truths laid bare,
I watch as mortals weave their snare.
There, astride ambition’s throne, he sits,
A hollow vessel, a storm that spits.
With gilded tongue and a serpent’s glide,
His lies fracture, where reason abides.
O seeker of power, what price do you pay,
To barter truth, to lead astray?
Promises bloom as mirages glistening bright,
Yet crumble to ash in democracy’s light.
The stars above—they do not deceive,
Ancient guardians that cannot leave.
Yet here upon this fragile ground,
Your gilded towers of falsehood abound.
I’ve seen such men, through ages past,
Who seize the wind to make their spell last.
And yet, while they shimmer, they fall the same,
To the weight of their hubris, to history’s flame.
MAGA’s roar—a cacophonous wave,
A siren song to those enslaved.
They wear the chains they cannot see,
Bound by a promised supremacy.
Oh, how the moral compass sways,
When clouds of deceit obscure the rays.
But truth, like the stars in my celestial view,
Shall pierce the night, and dawn anew.
So I, the cosmic wanderer, ponder still,
The fate of empires shaped by will.
For even camels upon the celestial tide,
Deplore the paths where truth has died.
And yet, I dream of a brighter dawn,
When lies are silenced and hate withdrawn.
When winds of wisdom cleanse the skies,
And humanity learns to see with clear eyes.
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