Idea Strikes

Within the crusted tower it flew,
Amongst the half-hearted wind,
It twisted its way upwards,
Like an impartial serpent,
An engraved tendon in the tower,
A hazardous light of power.

A wiry knife stabbing upwards,
An essential hook tearing through,
When finally it surfaced,
An uplifting drawing, fluffed propaganda,
An immense dog bearing down,
A framed vision with a crown.