the fire in his eyes
is gone
the muscles have shriveled into prunes
the voice cracks and rasps for breath
the will is willing, but the pressure and changing times have lost respect
for the man.
the most expedient way to power
neglects the force of character
within
neglects the importance of the impossible
does not understand the rationality of the irrational
going someplace to die, so that he can live
man needs to dominate with his will
to exert his force, his god-like power, his destiny
on the world
not to be blown by the winds of chance
or accept his fate, given to him
like a hand-out
Man needs to feel his own power
as intimately as a lover
not to succumb to the domestic life
not to be trapped within four walls
to be his own creator
to express his own aims
to hunt with his own instinct
the trappings of this world, suck him back into society
he must desire something beyond that
he must possess and be possessed
with a belief that suggests
he is—
by choice.
He has brought his life upon himself
has the ability to change it
to form his own image
to be tested on the highest peaks of integrity
to understand what nobody knows
to triumph over his pain with passion
to drive home his purpose with zeal
to know
his life was not an accident
not a billiard ball
struck
by someone else
finessed
with his own feelings
awake—in the dark
not able to sleep
a tiger, in the night
in the jungle
of skyscrapers, and street-lights
a predator who prays
for a reawakening
the cage has made his lights grow dim
bars have contained his muscles
his roar is only a purring now,
silent, as the wind
his will
wants to be reawakened
to flex his muscles
and scream
to a higher being.