| Subject: Gone Is Nothing |
Author:
T. Yahraus
|
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Date Posted: 19:41:02 01/18/02 Fri
From the dawn's beginning of our brief, regulated lives,
A game shapes itself, whose rules should alarm,
The race for success, and dollars to spend -- a recipe destined for hives,
Glittering, glowing as a princess, in truth a lurking spider, dripping with harm!
Mindlessly, throngs push and shove, stepping cruely on backs,
Crying, "Status!" "Fortune!", sporting hard-earned degrees,
Gorging at life's banquet table, a hollow fullness, unending lack,
Embroiled in slavery -- insatiable teachers and bosses to please.
Few, precious few, dare break from this hypnotic path,
Casting away, 'mid condemnation and scorn,
Shedding the green cocoon of compromised dreams --a soul's certain death,
Breaking from dark puppet strings into golden sunshine -- REBORN!!
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