Years ago a flame was lit,
a world divided, all people split.
Moves were made by those daring few,
some from bus seats, some from a pew.
A line that divided was intentionally crossed,
a fire was started to melt the frost.
A dream was spread to those who were lost,
while lives were given to pay the cost.
Darkness was what kept people away,
but the light from the fire led all from astray.
The lonely weak, together grew strong,
they fought for what's right, to end what was wrong.
Progress was made and lives were changed,
sense was made from what seemed so deranged.
Fighting will always split man into sections,
for the human condition is void of perfection.
The darkness, however, retreats each day by a bit,
for the light remains, the flame is still lit.