Poetry: Untethered

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The breeding of superstition degrades

The human spirit, leaving us stranded

In pettiness, in fear of each other,

Spinning laws to protect the powerful,

To deny choices born in love, to crush

The essential purity of impulse.

 

Only the night skies provide any hope,

For the universe is as chaotic

As any passion, as disorganized

As natural thought, as unexpected

As the truth. There our essence cannot be

Imprisoned, there we know diversity

Of form and spontaneity of play

Born from untethered imagination.

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