My instinct is broken
From fighting for so long.
Yet succumbing to instinct,
I was predator or prey.
Overcoming, I become:
Autonomous,
Self-generating,
Intensely, quietly powerful.
Society at large is a machine
For siphoning this joyful,
This exuberant energy.
The human animal is such a machine,
Rendered a gear,
A turning wheel,
Reduced from a whole
Into a mere part, so
Destinies interlock.
Tick. Tick. Tick goes the clock.
To tear oneself out of the clock is madness,
Yet it is just such a path,
Through looming hills,
Beyond the great tower,
Which I have chosen to walk,
Devoted only to the hymn of a
Simple, certain, tranquil pleasure,
The enchanting glow
Of the faintest moonbeam.
About the Creator
C. Rommial Butler
C. Rommial Butler is a writer, musician and philosopher from Indianapolis, IN. His works can be found online through multiple streaming services and booksellers.
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