Where Shall I Begin?

Words keep falling
On their target
Nourishing the fears
Along this whimsical march
Of forgotten souls
Finding our way
Through a contorted maze
Which seems to have no end
Where shall I begin?
How do I sum up
The struggles
Of the unaccounted man?
These misfortunate soldiers
Carry out the work
Of their respective gods
Worn like masks
On battlefields that begin
Inside the minds of their masters
There will be no relief
Sifting through the carnage
Of these cannon foddered men
While the men of power
Who have made the rules
Continue to help themselves
They cannot But help themself
To more of whatever they believe
They think they need to be complete
Or at least distracted
From this lie
They too must live
Though on a grander scale than I
Afforded through the actions
Of the unsuspecting
Who accept the lie
And build their life upon it
As if it were the truth
Men of privilege and of pomp
Worship their material pride
As the common man judges with a scowl
So when does a man become uncommon?
Why would he ever wish to fall in line?
With a plan born out of confliction
Feeding off manipulation
Furthering the cause
Of those who shall never be known
These mad little marionettes
Behind the scenes
Of this global set up
Are surely a power
Greater than I
As long as I continue
To covet these illusions
Spawned out of fear
Weaving a corrosive thread
Through the collective heart
binding us all
To elude a truth
That shall find us
Not a minute before
We find ourselves

Robert Gray Gallagher

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