The Steepest Hill

Governments talk of grand design,
But lose the spark in dotted lines.
Their promises echo like empty halls,
Bound by influence, their vision stalls.

Corporations, logos shining bright,
Sell us dreams, but dim the light.
Ethics they chant in a well-tuned song,
A chorus hiding what’s gone wrong.

Brands, slogans, polished, clean,
But only reflect what’s already been seen.
Innovation waits in the wings, confined,
While they chase the herd, a step behind.

Visionaries, alone, they climb the steepest hill,
Fighting tides with an iron will.
They bleed for truths the world denies,
Lighting the path with burning eyes.

Governments shuffle paper and plans,
Change the faces, repeat the bans.
Each term begins where the last one died,
New veneer, the same decay inside.

Corporations raise their towers high,
Counting gains while rivers die.
They patent breath, they trademark need,
They kneel to one god: the shareholder’s creed.

Brands harvest dreams they did not sow,
Polish the rough till nothing can grow.
They package the world in a single hue,
And sell us back what creators knew.

Visionaries forge where sparks collide,
Ideas born rough on the underside.
They build the future, raw and true,
Till brands arrive to paint it blue.

Governments dull the edge of thought,
Corporations sell what others sought.
Brands commoditise what once was free,
The best ahead shaped by the visionary.