Stooges of Species

 If life could be a movie, it would be a comedy,

The stooges of species are offered no remedy,

Living in it, it might seem dark, sad and dull,

But from a viewer's eye, it uses humour heavily,

Little things matter we say, it matters to us,

And will fight for these little things, making a fuss,

For a promotion, for some appreciation, such a ruckus,

But do they really actually matter, or is it insignificant like us.

It could all be a dream, one that we refuse to wake up from,

If this is a dream never wake me up, is all I ask.

But if I did, if I see the 'real' world, I might not stay calm,

I might lose my mind, might go crazy, forget all the psalms,

The sinister spells cast on the setting sun,

As we gather our wits, as we jog into a run,

Atop the clouds, beneath the golden sky,

In a circle for eternity, staying perpetually in motion.

The cycle of life we call it, the vicious trap,

Shirk all our faults, giving the devil a bad rap,

Not realising the worth of all the faith we had,

But treating ourselves to a well earned nightcap.

It is all but a sham, a curtain we pull over reality,

To establish a sense of control as we discovered gravity,

But these columns of corporeality existed long before us,

As we stake our unearned claims on the entire materiality.

The sermons, the prayers, the mantras we chant,

Instilling faith but it was never ours to grant,

Ununited, in front of the pearl gates we stand,

Blaming the others for all the misdeeds we planned.

But the heart wonders, the egos question the fate,

That we brought forth with all of our hate,

When we tried to challenge the Primordial spirits,

Not realising how far from humane we deviate. 

The sense of wonder in the heart of a child,

Is now the source rage in man, corrupting his mind,

Indulging our desires, as we march onwards blind,

Oblivious to what awaits us, never glancing behind.

It seems today, that all you see,

Is violence and hate running amok in the street,

And in the darkness of our minds, we fret

Over the misfortune we feel, heads bowed in defeat.

For no one can escape the inevitable,

What happens happens for a reason,

And we worry our little minds everyday,

Looking for hope, for a sign, or a beacon.