The Who?

What am i?

Merely a mass of flesh and bones, bathed in a murky, crimson wine;

Bound together by nerve and sinew, led to live by cells of gray.

A mobile mouthpiece with the ability to absorb and spew out

All that crosses my path and then those which I cross, inadvertently.

The lord of the land and yet the slave of the world.

The victor of battles and beholder of woes, one and all.

This is not I, but we.

Who am i?

Master of puppets, plagarist by birth;

Creator of nothing, controller of all.

A mind with a frame — to hold steady,

Yet the mind is the master of all that is mine.

To subdue the master I strive, day and night;

To let it out, but not far out of sight.

Strive as I may, the master will rule;

But ruling is all he’s meant to do.

Subdued and tamed, the rest will rise

To satisfy the purpose of their existence — and mine.

Now, if the dawn should ask me why,

Dusk shall settle in reply.

What I truly fear is the twilight zone –

The shifting shapes of the sun and moon

Darkness and light flooding the expanse of my universe.

In this beaming transluscent view, I see things not as they are –

I see that which exists; That which it is and will be — for life.

At first, it was a pleasant surprise, but now…..now…….

Now I despise it. To the core of my being.

For strangers are strange when met,

And the known grow weary and correct.

The one I am is not unknown,

But, to those who are plain of sight –

It will be a question to light the night.

On fire.