Seed

If you don't know that life is more than just
a brawl for bread, and breeding of your kind
before becoming rodent turds and dust,
then you don't know that deep within your mind,
a schedule of unfoldment waits your thoughts.
What keeps you from discovery of this,
is willful collusion with that which plots
to keep you down. A grip you can't dismiss
is habit's clench. Either known or unseen,
mechanicality corrupts the will,
and blinds one's eyes behind a smoky screen.
With Rome in flames, and hot dogs on the grill,
an unlit soul, amnesic of being a seed,
still blossoms as a pointless wayside weed.