A person’s life will lead that fateful course
As a cog in the machine that exists
To drive humanity like a workhorse
Diligently completing endless checklists
Of technological tasks that don’t wield
The magnitude of human emotion
That lights the sky on the 4th of July
With vibrant colors boldly revealed.
The production of utter commotion
Neglects emotion with a heavy sigh.
The psyche harnesses a full library
Of tangled needs and twisted fortunes
That become human’s greatest adversary;
And humanity dances to the tunes
Of its own self infatuation.
But oh the sadness that remains unknown
Upon faces that are totally dead.
Dead to themselves, In grand isolation.
They search for connection but remain alone
With original feelings to dread.
So long do people ponder solitude
With all its misery and emptiness.
People suffer from great ineptitude
Their heads soaking in disorganized mess,
Unable to rid themselves from worry
As they write their books of mental duress.
But they do not access their inner strength
Or ride the waves of self-discovery
That bring them the needed relief from stress
That heeds not a soliloquy of length.
People must work hard to discover
The beauty that lurks within the breeze
Which whips and whirls across mother earth—her
Treasure, which transcends mere matter, to seize
The essence of every living being
In which character thrives loving and unkempt.
And how important it is to every creature
To cherish the living element, seeing
The beauty within, that noble concept
That embellishes spiritual features.
There is something that does grow deep inside
Every human being who walks this earth
That, with all minor imperfections aside,
Is beautiful with such intrinsic worth.
This amorphous spiritual structure
Is constantly producing character
That comes out in every damn behavior
Harnessing the decisions that do occur,
The physical body, a mere factor,
An adjustable vacant thing to lure.
Every single internal perspective
Should breathe the life of spontaneity,
So any person of any respective
Background can, with presence that is witty
Be in touch with their inner creation,
Watching themselves unfold in wonder
With all their needs and desires addressed;
With greed and excess in grand succession
And the lessons of life left to blunder
Within a body that is truly blessed.
Heed not the call of the bounding lemming
As it crashes itself deep in the sea!
Listen not to the multitude’s sounding
With its tribute to the land of the free!
Shun this mad dash for material wealth
And speak out against the rich and snooty!
This is a call to the hurting soul
Who sacrifices its spiritual self,
Boldly daring to harm comforts beauty
To feel better about virtuous goals.
