What It Is, What We Are
What it is, what we are,
We are near, we cannot go far.
Tethered to the Earth like a kite on a string,
We attempt to soar high, but the Earth doth call
and we must answer its ring.
We cannot leave, we cannot go.
We are here on Earth forever more.
We manipulate the elements,
We reshape the planet with gaiety and mirth.
But still we remain grounded, tethered to this old Earth.
It is a prison. It is Heaven. It is our home.
Here we live, we breathe, we are born.
But we cannot help but look beyond the walls of our home.
We try to escape our cage,
Yet, we cannot see outside. We cannot escape beyond.
We are trapped in our own mediocrity,
So we invent gods. We invent angels.
We invent heavens above.
But they are always out of reach, out of sight,
Above and beyond our heads like doves.
We cannot bear not knowing why, we cannot stand being alone,
So we dream. We imagine. We try to bring forth water from stone.
And all the while, we remain. We are never allowed leave.
We dream and we dream and sometimes we even scream,
But the answers do not come, not even some.
For here we must remain-tethered. Tethered to the ground.
And again and again those born of us will ask the same things:
What it is. What it is. Why and where?
What it is. What we are, as we gaze at the stars.
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