Conditioning

Our lives are
Sealed in a bottle,
Like a toy ship
Pretending to be
Christopher Columbus
Without having to fear
Sailing off the sea's edge, or
Plunging into an abyss where
Space is not a boundary
But the eyehole of
Infinity. We are led
Like any convict
To his execution,
The black hood of Reason
Fixed tight over our heads,
Shutting out the stars,
Deadening the sounds of
The far-off worlds.

by Anne M. Malley

Other poems of ANNE M. MALLEY (2)

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