The Natural World

We’ve sold our souls – dirt cheap

not in a quick transaction

as the devil comes to us in our dreams

but in a gradual Faustian rhythm

piece by piece

just as we are depleting

our last hours of ancient sunlight

so goes our soul

as we frantically find ways to hold on to it

to hold

to grasp

to beg

to barter

never realizing that the search

the planning

the scheming

the fighting

the biting

the clawing

the raping

the praying

the playing

never realizing

there was a time that we didn’t search

there was a time we didn’t need

central AC, iced mocchachinos, and the next Star Wars sequel

We didn’t need cars, we had nowhere to go

We didn’t need entertainment, save the beat of our own hearts

in time to a limitless mind

we didn’t need alarm clocks with snooze alarms

because we had no jobs to be at

to spend 8 hours of our day

hawking placebos and flipping burgers

selling our energy

our thoughts

our time

our selves

for a minimum wage

of 5 dollars and 25 cents an hour

There was a time when those moments

and the living within them

was worth much more to us

than these things we think we now need

those moments were all we had

so much so that we became delirious in them

and covetous for more

we developed things outside of ourselves

that would create more of this time

and in so doing we lost it

the moments we cherished

where we once burned

continued to learn

who we are

in the world

around us

and what this life really is

and now we stop after prom

thinking it all figured out

believing all we know

on the word of those who have

sold their souls before us

and lean on these developments

these societies

these systems

these creations

these weapons

of mass destruction

of the human spirit

the very instinct that designates

the route of mallards in winter

the tides of the seas

the phases of the moon

the smell on the breeze

let us know of weather coming

and we knew it

and now we wonder

if the wacky weatherman

with his banter of anchors

really thinks its going to rain

cuz the skies sure look clear

because there is so much

we no longer notice

with the TV on

radio blaring

kids on Nintendo

cars whizzing by

neon lit strip malls

filled with more currency to buy yourself from you

to continue on in the beatless rhythm

of making you human

to further separate yourself

from what is going on around you

by these elaborate toys and gizmos

streaming media distracting you from the transaction at hand

from the plethora of false beliefs

we have held to for ages

though they only seek to separate us from each other

there was a time I wasn’t necessary

a poet on a corner

a preacher on a soapbox

a politician on a nickel

there was a time it was we

the distinctions were unknown

for we

were

all

One

the trees

the seas

the bees

the breeze

lions laid down with lambs

and we cuddled between them

the purr of the jungle cat

and the warmth of the wool

But then we stood up

now we’re buying and trying

cloning and groaning

driving and crying

go to work

circle jerk

rally and tally

for what we believe in

this better than that

you better than me

because of the wad of paper in your pocket

that was worthless in the time before now

Does it really matter

all this idle chatter

on stock market finance

the price of fame

glory and shame

where it was once enough

and a blessed thing

to only breathe

 

But how far we’ve come in our distinctions

that we no longer consider ourselves

as part of

the natural world

 

Steve McAllister is the author of The Rucksack Letters and How to Survive an Estralarian Mind Meld. He posts regularly at InkenSoul.com, is sometimes posts at Anything Arts, Sarasota Music Scene, and Elephant Journal, and is currently the Director of Operational Development for the Common Wealth Time Bank in Sarasota, Florida. Follow him on Twitter, Facebook, and YouTube.

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