When the moon shines Over the dull residences Full of prisoners of the night already asleep or some still awake working by dim lights Wearing the muzzles they placed upon themselves And the chains they are to busy to notice are there, Among the cells, Lies one filled with life, The inhabitants and guests of the deceiving home have awoken Their muzzles ripped off And their chains broken, An illusion of freedom That soon ceases to be an illusion, The broken chains evaporate from where they lay As if they never existed, Voices have been let loose Bodies freed to move, And the spirits, enclosed in their cell, are free. When the sun shines Over the dull residences They are quiet and still, Chains solidify out of the air as quickly as the went, The prisoners of the day Strap on their muzzles before Leaving the cell in cuffs, Headed for another day in the yard. When the light starts to fade Over the dull residences, And the prisoners willingly march back to their cells, Having already forgotten how Motion felt without chains And speech without a muzzle, They did not oppose Another night under the governing moon.
A poem about the cycles of mundain life. Written and revised in high school, roughly 2017-2019.
Life Is Just A Blur 