Like an apple
Fallen too far from the tree
I gravitate towards what I cannot touch, hear, nor see
Reaching blindly, rejecting the soil
With my gnarled roots 
In favour of the infinite sky.

Clarity eludes me.

The longer I grasp for these walls
The more I want to tear them down
Arrange
In miniature scale
The snapshot of our variable souls
Curled in the pupils
Of a great, celestial being.

Is it too much to ask for wisdom?
A king would wish to rule his land
With a heart as kind and fair
As the sky above his head
All-knowing, all-seeing
Most insightful.

If only we knew which hand to hold
For the most faithful acolytes to devote 
They lay out crops and hearts, pointed south
So earnestly it knits my mouth
Shut with silent regret.

I wonder if the self is contained and true
Or tainted, a sewn puppet with no mind of its own
Were we once gods
Cursed to live
What ink couldn't bring to justice
Or are we our children's servants
Sow the earth and reap the seed
The deed of unfathomable lifetimes.

Destiny and fate are
Two halves of the same evil
Just the thought of a crystal ball is medieval
And so is good, and so is bad
If logic is followed, then led astray
Enchanted by the disloyal, poetic moon
The tune to which our hearts play--
Those would be dangerous paths to take.

In pursuit of enlightenment, I stand to testify
In place of humanity's
Insanity, their unconscious worries, our altruistic fantasies of that the universe does not understand
Why we are what we do, because in the end
There is no end
Fall off the Earth, and
Our last grip on what is certain, would crumble.

Humble
Is what I would like to be called
But I've seen too much
Suddenly, I can see my chains 
And sing of freedom
Despite not tasting its sweetness 

I've seen too much to be humble
To sit contently on the graves of past potential
Counting down the seconds
Watching the setting sun
While society toils away
A mass of unconscious thought
Tucked away in the pocket of our closed-minded hive.


-the philosopher