Starved From Ourselves

Freedom means nothing unless you’re dimmed, 
you’re lowered to the beast until lightless you’re 
left, expectant of a moment that will show there
is more to life than an end to the cosmic thread 
that unites us with our lifeblood. Earth’s bread 
multiplies where there’s space to grow. Signify 
where meaning has been lost. Identify where 
arrogance has taken us prisoners, but intensify
where life has given us plenty by offering
meaning where most want to settle against their
kind wisdom, a sustenance thicker than the thread
that binds us to this reality, constantly building 
a moment that will release us from the hatred 
accumulated from centuries walking blind, farther
away from what’s important in our lives, freedom 
means everything unless you are exploding meaning:
the everlasting expansion of time is your death. 

Don’t fear the lightless, by then, without breath,
wait for your passion given to flourish, a thread
thicker than bread was left for those who need 
to weave their trace, to calm the memories craved, 
to feed the centuries to come so hope can become
when we’re starved from the freedom to be nous-mêmes.