All I see is a grey fog between me and the Ones of Authority.
Hastily deceived, we still nod our heads in habitual insensibility.

We work too arduously knowing we are only preparing for the unknown.
Come watch and enjoy when we all march blindly following where they tell us to go.
The commanding and the scolding becomes quite the sight in eerie mysticism.

Only with celestial eyes is the future compatible.
The Ones teaching have fallacious theories on what is to become of us.
They are the blind Ones, they are the inscrutable,
They are the voices for the perplexed and forgotten.

The Ones have taken years from us, but what have we to take from them?
Creating a cage for our delicate minds, they swallow the key and point towards Him.
In the indifference, I believe, lies the truth to the dysphoric cloud I see.

No, better yet, all I see is pity and fear.
The way they look at us has no effect on their past.
Advising our lives universally though they had their chance to hark and hear.
Their attempts are all in vain, and we continue to be restrained.

I know that we are nothing but thieves in their visceral sense of life’s girth.
Stealing of them their troubles of which we can successfully take note or insubstantially desert.
Why then do they force their unavailing memories upon us?

If they held the ingenuity to recognize what I see of myself,
They would reassess and adjust their focus.
The rotten scent of years past, alone, penetrates all that they smell.
Let erratic thoughts flee now while the chance still lingers.

Become not their experiment of the repercussions; rather, transcend their judgment.
Ask the mind, “What is the apex of my being after freed from the guileless intent?”