To My Adopted Nation

Are you listening,
my chosen, adopted nation?

Do not intimidate me
with lion-growling might,
but with the quiet strength
of evolving humility
and the steady pulse of patience.

Not with the bark
of stagnant commands,
but with your measured breath,
your sky-honest reflection,
unaffected by tyrants
or digital illusions.

The whole world is watching.
History leans forward:
a fragile craft drifting
on open water,
its nervous travelers struggling
to fine-tune their navigation.

We do not wish to crash,
nor to sink
into the fading memory
of nations once adored,
once loved by dreamers
whose loyalty now turns to question.

Be the land that builds
not more superweapons,
but super hearts.

Let the weapons sleep
and fall silent.

Awaken,
not for conquest,
but for the turning tide.

Not to rise in dominance,
but to settle,
free from greed,
free from arrogance.

Like the deep ocean:
Vast.
Calm.
Still.

Holding, in its fathoms,
the fractured glow
of our unfinished redemption.