Chronicling the fall

The thing about empires is they fall.

Because the hierarchy thins at the top.

And the bile at the bottom will rise and corrode the top.

The many outanger the few.

Can you count the black, brown, and the red?

It may take generations.

Is there a thought

that we will strip again and endure the whip once more?

Without a whimper or a word?

That’s empires for you,

they don’t know they’ve lost until they hear the battle cry.

You think you engineered the Spring.

That you are a pied piper.

Do you know any loyal rats?

It is coming.


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