The Folding of the Box: Poetry

The train bullets
Into the future
Faster than any
Can predict.
What will we do
when time runs
down to a Singularity,
collapsing every 
paradigm neatly
and folding 
up the box
we’ve been taught
is Freedom?
It is not enough
To think outside the box
Or to hold hands
Within the circle

To transcend,
We have to go
To the singular point
of who we are
Run, run, run
Until your heels
Give out and 
bone remains

Then will you see
That the system
cares nothing for
Your blood,
Your tears,
Or your sacrifice?

Then can you realize
That feeding the beast
Is the equivalent of
feeding death every day?
Shatter the cages,
It’s time to Live.
Unlock the mysteries,
It’s time to Know.
Crumple the foundations,
It’s time to Build.
One by one,
The old way is
Falling Apart.
Let’s tell ourselves
We’ve all joy and plenty;
The streets are full enough
With misery as it is

And the party must
go on, you know
At least,
until the last Stock
Market prediction
falls short
Dignified and distinguished
Used to mean
More than:
“My watch costs more
Than your yearly salary.”
We are different,
You and me,
yet beneath your skin
and mine are the same
type of things,
that need only a little
bit of conversation
to have them make sense...

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