Come with me.
Let’s circle around the man, our corporate captor, and show him our true numbers.
Let’s barricade him in with our art, blast music in his face, and dance around him with fire spinning from our fingers like stars orbiting the center of the galaxy.
He’ll try, but he can’t stop us. He’ll scream, “I’m too big to fall!”
And with a fireball to his ankles, we’ll ignite him.
The violet flames will rise — like the wild feminine within us — flicking heat tornados off his neck.
We’ll cheer as his ash floats over us.
We’ll howl to the moon as she watches his destruction, our preservation, the fireworks of our celebration.
And when, at last, our fire brings him crashing down —
Our World will finally be free.