Day 44

Human nature: the same facets and tenets of existence that govern us all present themselves in some beautiful and terrible ways. These poems are the culmination of my thoughts, yet more and more I feel they are simply a manifestation of something far bigger than I could ever become. My personal desires are an illusion, fabricated upon the pillars of my ancestors lives and the guide of societal normalities. In a sense, this is all that I hope to be truly my own, to define this space in the universe that I occupy. It is said the writers greatest desire is to create from what is known something that has not yet been seen. My goals are not fame, fortune, or stability; my sole purpose in this world is contribution, and for you all I have given my soul to taking what I have and stretching with my entire willpower towards making even a fraction of an impact in the passing of history with something that still to this day evades my understanding. This world, these words that create a life of their own and will far outlast mine have become my obsession.

 The System, Intent on Repetition 

 The system, intent on repetition
Rising from ashes of previous missions
Synthesized this side effect, a human condition:
A conscious reaction to boundless fruition.

 First, greed:
Beyond the reach of every belief,
Regardless of status or color or creed
We feed on material feasts of "need."

 Then pride,
While the monks and the preachers will sigh--
Tired of trying to save this life
From the chains which bind us, our timeless blight.

 As rebels,
With a subtle desire never to settle
We sailed beyond need in an anchorless vessel
To wreak our destruction, the innocent devils.

 As racists,
Yet this wolf in a sheep's diseased blanket
Was no single man, but a seed, faceless
And set to its course since the dawning of ages.

 One dies,
Yet for each of the righteous, the noble, the wise
Is an iteration in artful disguise
As the eyes of our hunger envision no compromise.

 One decrees,
That we, through the sands of an hourglass deceive 
Our minds into thinking that we could be free
As we find these demons have shackled our feet.

Some will escape to then fool the listless,
A herd sunken deeply in scripted decisions
As the first of our days must have fatefully written:
The system, intent on repetition.


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