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| Poem |
 
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It Is Endless by Glaven Glavenski
 (2 ratings)
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Prodigious words we use
to ponder the meaning of the
never ending cycle of the mental process.
Slaves, we have become, to the
overwhelming urge to exclaim our
superior cognitive faculties.
I think therefore we exist within the
imagination of a collective view,
one without escape or the essence of truth
Over thought, stretch my mind so that I
may see the ramblings of the mad man
who can only function within this space.
The space, inescapable, bound we are
to the limits we have constructed in this
limitless void of flowing thought and energy.
Pawns in the game created only for the sake
of function. Created by the ones to whom
it was meant to enslave.
Can I escape? Can I break free?
Or am I only thinking with the rules set forth
by the keepers of imagined truth?
Theorize the theory that I have thought
since you no longer can think for yourself
and those who think for you have gone.
It is endless.
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