Sheep

Souls are rising and falling, each with a new breath.

Given to us for a moment, then released.

Exhale.

Bounded under unforeseen mysteries and disclosed ideas.

We search more with our eyes and less with words that were spoken from the unknowledgeable.

Giving us insight, strengthening our damaged soul.

Bearing witness to our selfish philosopher.

Giving protest to its ways, to silence the voices in its own head.

Those praising themselves put the weak to shame.

Shaming those who don’t agree.

Praising those who raise them higher on the scale.

But they’re dominant and destroy those who pull them down.

Killing souls and breaking hearts.

Turning peacemakers into violent protesters.

Taunting and scorching them, then they win.

No one ever wins in a society that can’t make up its mind.

For it is the mind that rules over all, onward to the environment of which the poison is released.

Filling the air and intoxicating our minds.

Opinions that strike the mindless to be followed or stupid leads.

As the puppeteer pulls the strings in life.

But even then the puppet cuts his own strings to strive for his independence.

Paving his own path.

Then falls apart from his own demise.

Realizing in the end, we’re all doomed.

But even in death peace will be found.

Like the calm before the storm, even then the winds still scream.