We ask the tyrant: when will you end our torture he asks us when will the snake stand on its own legs when will the rat wed the mouse’s offspring we shiver with shrieks from death chambers he says they are laughs of men at play
we ask the tyrant: when will you destroy your chains he says when there are fires in the land hot enough to melt their links
call in the blacksmith today
and let forge heat smother all castles of death
Is it not the fire which moulded the padlock that also forged the key?