We are but slaves to numbers.
Caged by the ticking of a machine.
Order is an illusion.
Control remains a dream.
Why must we tire ourselves?
Fight a fatuous battle for power?
No need to bridle the horse
that belongs in the wild.
let him gallop in the meadow,
the wind combs his mane
as he dances with the joy
none other can feign.
Don't put pattern to the stars
They shine brighter that way;
As Clusters of gleaming stones
lighting the vastness of space
we have limited our beings
with our nonsensical edicts
for what we consider 'sane'
Your ego and jealousy
are just ball and chain.
There is no purpose to the crown
If you shrink from change.
We were born from nothing
And will die just so.
We are but cosmic specks
Bound to fade
Into the ever-growing whole.
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artwork by Clayshaper on Instagram
