We seek some kind of purpose,
To fuel tired engines,
To keep us going 'till that final day;
If we find no reason,
To keep us through the seasons,
Our final winter will hold us at bay.
We look upon our past,
To seek comfort in our doings,
Yet all we find is shame and longing thus;
We look upon our future,
Not knowing what we'll find,
Afraid of something we can't even see.
We are tied to some emotion,
Many named an unnamed notions,
To keep us going throughout every day;
Sometimes it's overwhelming,
Confusing, even tempting,
Never knowing what the future may be rendering.
People give up all their soul,
Not fight to keep it theirs,
Becoming parts of big great faceless crowds;
They can't remember when,
They were they and only them,
Set apart from other people here and there.
They've assimilated thus,
A collective mind whose fuss,
Keeps getting bigger each and every day;
They think not for themselves,
A mass of bodies held,
By some puppet master leading at the helm.
They know of no emotion,
No strangeness in their notions,
For everyone is doing just as they;
They fear to step alone,
In a darkness that now moans,
Of a danger lurking in each and every way.
They seek to find some answers,
For unknown types of cancers,
They can't explain why one has not joined them;
They can not read his mind,
They are now in a bind,
For he alone has now learned how to fend.
08 January 2005