The Illusionist's Cage

Give me a second to sit,
a moment ot meditate...

I grow more feral with each passing moment
I sit fixed in this beautiful cage.
These stones are illusionist's trick
Oh, these hills 'fore my eyes call me free.
The air is sweet and ancient and rich
but the supply constricts so slightly.
My foes are my friends,
my new family, slave-drivers.
I'm tilling the harvest of their perceptions.
My mind says, "Step away and be free,"
the angry logic frothing.
This insecure heart beats and grasps
at a perfect respect I envision.
Visions are fruitless without action on hand.

My mind does as I will it to do...
Will I do as my mind so demands?

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An Advent of Sense

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