Freedom Runners

They took to hill
As dashing beasts,
Fitting for a meal
Although the incline
Was a foothill to a mountain;
And mountains
Can be monsters,
Putting to rest those childish fears
We find their eagle souls soaring,
Breasting
The nipple of Dante's infernal peak
Where finish line of time
Awaits with victory milk.
No more
Meticulous fields of slave,
Now open doors
Can furnish
Bigger, and better tables of wood
Where......
Worthy men's meals can be
Served, greeted with bigger smiles;
And we are all better...
Than the labels of assumption.