#CrossEra
In a room where time dissolves,
Two figures meet, with ancient resolve.
One is cloaked in wisdom's hue,
The other bears a passion new.

Socrates speaks, his voice a stream,
"Tell me, friend, what do you dream?
Is it truth you seek, or fame's embrace,
Or do you walk at reason's pace?"

Lincoln stands with solemn grace,
A face etched deep with war's long trace.
"My dream," he says, "is peace's light,
For all men equal in their right."

"But what of sacrifice?" the Greek inquires,
"Must we not temper our desires?"
Lincoln nods, his gaze afar,
"Freedom's cost is never charred."

They walk through thought, both bold and wise,
One with questions, one with ties.
In their words, the ages blend,
A dialogue that has no end.

For in their talk of truth and right,
Socrates' day meets Lincoln's night.
They find, though eras stand apart,
A common pulse, a single heart.

And as they part, their voices fade,
Yet leave a mark that won't degrade.
For in that room where time withdrew,
They forged a bond, forever true.
© Larry Ridener