Tomorrow, tomorrow, tomorrow.
Every day is but a mirror image of the day before.
Life's cadence marches to a never ending drumbeat.
It throbs in our brains.
It demands conformity.
We are but drops in the mist forming and dropping.
We fall from our unstately perches without sound or consequence.
Yet, it is thunder and lightning that is remembered, not the mist.
It is our complacency that camouflages the fire raging in our souls.
The cadence drowns out our screams.
It grabs at our hearts and forces us to comply.
The fire in our soul lashes out to hold back our legs.
We shake the cadence from our minds.
We falter and charge to the light, like moths to the flame.
We are free!
The quiet is deafening.
How strange it feels to be out of step--to be in charge.
We hurry back.
How it hurts to be trampled by the marching multitude.
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