The Lions In Us

All is calm and still this night,

Unshattered silence rules the dark,

A silver moon crowns the sky

And the little stars spread their light,

Over the unbroken, peaceful quiet;

 

Yet, trust not this proverbial quiet,

The stillness is shallow and false;

Do not take for granted

This dumb stupor,

For the lion sleeps tonight;

 

While this fleeting serenity thrives,

Our spirits shall be meek,

Our steps shall tread softly,

These footfalls will not be seen;

And whispered voices cannot be heard

Over the deafening roar of silence;

 

But when the air burns with the heat of fire,

And the sun pushed forth to rise,

Its flames engulfing all peace,

Unquenched passions shall burst to light,

Noble fury will pierce the sky;

 

So as fear falls away

Like the curtain on a stage,

Rawness and passion

Shall stand naked

Before the turbulent day;

 

 Our finer spirits shall be unclothed,

Quiet strength will be unveiled,

Behind shy, timid eyes might lie

Souls of dreamers, storms of zeal that rage

In smoldering, vehement longing;

 

Then the lions in us shall roar aloud,

Not the triumphant shouts of victory,

But the last desperate striving, dying breath

Of our throbbing, anguished souls,

For all that we trusted, dreamed and hoped!