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


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


by someone else


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.

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