A Reflection from the Soul of the Republic
Smoke rises from old altars. A gate swings open in the dust.
The storm is not new, but the silence before it feels different now.
Each step taken this week was a wager:
on power, on memory, on what we are willing to lose to feel in control.
Beneath the slogans and policies, something older stirs,
a shadow of forgotten covenants,
a river of longing that can’t be dammed by law.
When the guardians become gamblers,
when the house shakes,
who dares ask what the foundation was built for in the first place?
What do we truly protect when we call it freedom?
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