The Rise of the Collective

A somber dirge begins to play
as the night engulfs the light of day
for it is the time to mourn the passing
of individuality, as more and more
we slip into a black and white world.
Hear the crows calling…melancholically
as they seek to blend their caws
with the music that marks death.
The music that signifies
we are all one…and the same.
There is no uniqueness,
there is only good and evil,
or perhaps right and wrong,
or even right and left.
No more is there a center;
No more…is there a middle ground
showcasing the individual beauty
of each and every one of us.
For the shades of gray have left this world,
Gone on—passed on to the land of the dead.
For the land of the living has nothing…left
save for conformity…oneness…the collective.
And so, my mind latches onto the wings
of the crows, seeking to be carried away,
to be transported beyond this land
that has become…boring.

© August 18, 2010 CRF