P B Shelley’s Prometheus Unbound was suggested to me as an inspiration. The play ends:
To suffer woes which Hope thinks infinite;
To forgive wrongs darker than death or night;
To defy Power, which seems omnipotent;
To love, and bear; to hope till Hope creates
From its own wreck the thing it contemplates;
Neither to change, nor falter, nor repent;
This, like thy glory, Titan, is to be
Good, great and joyous, beautiful and free;
This is alone Life, Joy, Empire, and Victory.
Prometheus was once a symbol of socialism and communism. Now that those ideas and their echoes have turned the state into an instrument of impoverishment, oppression and injustice, it seems proper that Prometheus should be claimed by those of us who want a free and open society.
Tags: Liberty, Poetry, Prometheus Unbound, Shelley