The Rebel Versus the Revolutionary

In the world of change, two figures stand,

One with a raised fist, the other, an open hand.

The revolutionary, eager for a grand sweep,

Dreams of a new order, a change so deep.

Yet, when the dust settles, and the old is torn down,

Too often they find just a different crown.

Leaving folks in the lurch, wondering in their strife, if all that upheaval was worth their life.

Then there’s the rebel, with a lighter touch,

Not so much about power, but changing much.

It’s the heart and the mind they aim to sway,

With a wink and a nudge, they go their way.

They’re the ones who dance at the edge of the night,

Turning shadows to paintings with strokes of light.

Not for them, the throne or the scepter’s weight,

But the joy in each challenge, the love over hate.

While revolutionaries capture the throne and the crown,

Rebels make waves, but rarely drown.

They fight not to rule but to break the chains,

And in their struggle, humanity gains.

Like that old story of Prometheus and his fire,

Suffering for progress, but lifting us higher.

Their legacy is not in the rule, but the spark,

Lighting up the dark.

So here’s to the rebels,

Who see the world’s stage as a place to begin.

Not just to dismantle, but to inspire and mend,

To dream of the start, not just the end.

For it’s in the rebel’s spirit, civilization finds its songs,

A melody of rights in a world of wrongs.

In their light steps, may we all find our dance,

In the rebel’s heart, the endless chance.