When firm ground gives way beneath
and falling is the ever-motion
of men who fear to fall,
gravity is declared deceit.
Men kill the loud commotion,
demanding order from the chaos call.
This is the nature of unavoided panic;
to embrace the loss of sanity
as the normalcy of humanity.
And what else is he? Man. Placid
in his revolution, his crazy
crescendos and bow-down parties;
the battle cries of distaste for life.
On and on the currents of illusion push
the lemmings farther over the ledge.
The ever-motion is our strife
and yet we dare not turn. We rush
to death as if to the light – the illusion’s edge –
and take all those ’round us along
in our devastation of lifetimes, without regard
to what may have laid ahead for us.
Oh, how quickly we dismiss ourselves, prolong
the pining for what has scarred
the reality of human purpose.
Can we not let go? Drop off this
pack mentality of moral conscience,
of the proper lines of sanity,
and rise up? Shall we dismiss
the boundaries which shed our blood, the violence?
Let loose the dogs beyond the gates of vanity
and what lies before your eyes. Go insane!
Clean the slate of your purpose, of why
you breathe, and see the other side of the ethical
code. For here we are, at the reign’s
finality – the edge of the legend sky –
and we have become our own sentinel.
I honestly have no idea. Got into a rhythm of a Horatian ode and it just kept going… But I like it. 🙂