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Like a monument to the common past

that will one day crumble and dissipate,
I celebrate the Word that will stand last
to establish a New World Syndicate:
Now, I do not speak of conspiracies,
only of truth, honor, love and noblesse;
its symbols are white flowers and blue seas,
golden auras and purple dresses, yes!
We are peaceful but will evoke madness 
if those in power refuse to desist;
they have caused us unmerited sadness,
wringing their cheapened fruits from our right fists:
But the left hand holds on to a flower –
by thorn or fragrance, it airs out power.
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