A Poem: An Ode to the Indomitable Spirit of Art and Culture

by bernt & torsten

In a world aflame and waning, in a realm of sorrow vast,
Where the dead in numbers mounting,
Seems a whistleblower's blast.
To the cynics and the skeptics, who see progress as a prom,
Claiming Art and Culture die in the face of firestorm.

They are mistaken, they are wrong, they've read the signs askew,
For it's the Culture and the Art for which we are the crew.
Seek not survival as your echelon, the Phoenix too was burned,
From its ashes it rose mightier; a life-lesson well learned.

Remove a generation, torch their dwellings, scatter dust,
Yet like tendrils of resilient ivy, we grow amongst the rust.
Strike us down, and we'll emerge, a testament to strife,
For you may take our lives, but never our way of life.

Destruction of achievements, the obliteration of our history,
Surely, that's the victor’s glory, the enemy's primary mystery.
But it's not the bricks that make a home, nor the bodies that make a land,
It’s the Art that breathes life into walls, it's the deeds that make a hand.

With each dawn, we rise stronger, each dusk we write a tale,
Our culture lives because we breathe, in pursuit, we never fail.
The enemy seeks to turn us into mere ghosts, drifting without aim,
But we live on in stories sung, in every artist's fame.

Prepare the paints, tune the chords, let the public square be full.
Let the adversary know, to our spirit, they'll never pull.
I'll see you in the morning, with the new sun, we’ll start,
For the brave live forever, in every piece of art.