Compliance, Reward and Freedom: A poem

I walk to the end of a street

that I can’t even recall its name!

And I see the labourers working

They are drilling a hole on the street

And I feel the street breathing a sigh as it cracks open

The splinters of tar making the air cringe

And I begin to wonder:

Can they bury sorrow, grief, pain in there?

Am I to be held liable and inhibited by mind-reading forces for walking aimlessly

to distract myself from my own pain?

And I think what can science bring?

And what can the technology to the farthest planet bring?

When they pierced the Oort Cloud, did they discover

alien life that brought down the Elysian fields upon Earth?

Can even all the money in the world be so insurmountable

as to effect a reflex in our sinews that brings happiness to those that cry out for it?

And if you think your smugness is some sort of happiness,

can you bet on your freedom at all?

If I can ask you all: Is there any reward that truly satisfies me as equal for my compliance….

or tellingly recompensing for my eternal sacrifice?

And can one bury a hatchet against one’s most profound instincts?

I feel so silent in a discordance that the immortal in me is bursting all over with the pain….