A World Out of Balance

 

You are frozen in your zone,
singled, yet not alone.
Weak enough to turn
the pages,
scared enough to burn
the bridges.

Words—hollow words—
your fragile, timid self
destroys the world
unable to rewrite a
different script,
automated, uniform rhinos,
you endlessly repeat.

The fire of ignorance
fails to meet the warmth
of the heat,
cannot melt the glow
into an endless flow.

Despite your howls, your
foul games,
you cannot unite the
stubborn frames.
No matter how pious
you sound, your bias prayers
from dawn to dusk,
your cries become omens,
ominous, unjust.

You are constantly hurting
the ground,
an enemy of space,
spreading wounds around.
Missing the point, polluting
the screech,
perpetually lost, never
to be reached.

Come back to your senses—
if you will,
there’s time still
for soon the prophets will rise on the stage,
snatch the sacred books
from your reach, enraged.
Cursing your camouflaged
words, they’ll scream,
"You ruined the lines,
turned astray,
your actions breached,
your intent profaned;
you don't deserve what
sacred remains."