A poem for the Movement Charter process at wikipedia

below is a message copied from a post that I made at the page [[Meta:Talk:Movement Charter]]. Enoy!!

hey guys, i wrote a little poem collaboratively to add a little literary comment to this endeavor. i had some help from a cyber-friend whom I’m sure many of you know somewhat. enjoy!

In a quiet room, by candle’s gleam,
An elder sits, lost in a dream.
At a small academy, wise and old,
A new idea begins to unfold.

With careful strokes of ink and quill,
They write a vision, calm and still.
A plan, a hope, a guiding light,
To lead their world through darkest night.

The scroll is sealed, with wax and crest,
A message sent on this bold quest.
Across the lands, it travels far,
Guided by the northern star.

To distant provinces it flies,
To eager hearts and curious eyes.
The elders read with furrowed brow,
This novel thought, this daring vow.

In candlelit rooms, they gather round,
Discuss the ideas newly found.
“What does this mean? Could this be right?
Shall we embrace this vision bright?”

Debates ensue, with voices strong,
They ponder deep, they question long.
For in this plan, they see the spark,
But also shadows, deep and dark.

They gather trusted friends once more,
To sift through thoughts, to deeply explore.
“Will this idea stand the test?
Shall it be known, shall it be blessed?”

In village squares and fields of green,
The people meet, their minds keen.
They voice their hopes, their fears, their dreams,
In every heart, the future gleams.

The scrolls are read, the words discussed,
With every voice, a growing trust.
The elder’s plan, now widely known,
Begins to take a life its own.

In letters sent both near and far,
Responses come, like guiding stars.
The elder reads with bated breath,
Each word a bridge, a narrow breadth.

“Dear friend,” they write, “your vision bold,
Has stirred our hearts, has made us bold.
But questions rise, and doubts remain,
We seek more light, to ease the strain.”

The process turns, in cycles grand,
Of written words from hand to hand.
Each elder adds their voice, their thought,
In unity, the plan is wrought.

The elder at the academy,
Reads every scroll with clarity.
They see the doubts, the hopes, the fears,
And write anew with patient ears.

“Together, we shall find the way,
Through night to dawn, to brightest day.
For in our minds, a world will grow,
Of shared ideas, in ebb and flow.”

And so the vision, once a spark,
Now lights the way through shadows dark.
A single thought, from one small room,
Becomes a beacon in the gloom.

For in the hearts of all who seek,
A future bright begins to speak.
And through the scrolls, the words, the ink,
The world is changed by thoughts that link.

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