at the heart of every legend,
every myth, every story ever told,
and every secret ever kept;
there lies a force field of nature.
we see it and feel it, like sunburns --
that the history of human existence
was built on chronicles of oppression.
i do not know why. nobody knows why.
even the mystics and clerisies do not.
even the dull and the ignorant do not.
the secrets seem to be earthed deep
within the crypts of our impalpable psyches,
striving to see the light of life.
oppression breathes on our necks,
expiring hatred, greed, and delusion.
you see the living treat the dead like debris,
the privileged assaulting the nameless,
the strong bullying the weak into obscurity,
the rich keeping the poor aimless and lame,
the intelligent frustrating the ignorant with
inchoate riddles --
thereby making life more opaque, more cliffy
if you are young, think.
there are shadows within and without
drifting aloft in the solitudes of winds,
spreading illusions and counterbalances.
the code is to fight and escape --
from a groupthink that oppresses you
for being inadequate;
for being ... different.