Calculating souls,
statistic measures,
we like to think we are free,
but we are the first to imprison ourselves.
Dire humans, listen
when the universe speaks.
She advises, at time she screams,
but be wise to hear her when she murmurs.
In her soft voice lies the answer.
Her tone carries the formula.
“Let me show you the way,” she whispers.
“Let me show you happiness.”
Signs, messages, colors,
the mother is always drawing our paths.
She bends, blows, binds, and breaks, with a plan.
Trust… and follow.
Safety, we think,
is to follow a path we’ve imagined.
Familiarity, routine, comfort –
Ignoring all universal efforts.
Eyes shut, ears muffled, lips sealed,
protecting from outside influence.
“I am on the right path,” becomes your mantra.
“Could have,” “should have,” later describes your memories.
Intellectual humans,
you have developed speed
and shut yourselves shut.
Knowledge has turned you cynical.
Missed opportunities,
fear of new roads.
“This is what I have to do,”
sounds ecstatically promising.
You’ve tightened your horse blinkers,
firm footsteps – you will not stray.
ignoring all signs of love,
but it won’t be you
standing on that altar anyway.