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Still It Is Possible To Have a Conscience

Still it is possible to have a conscience
 Amidst the conscienceless,
 Then you're on your own
  Good-luck-buddy.

   Avaricious protoplasm spins madly out of control
   Under an aching sky,
    Vapor and dusk.
    But that which is rooted in things dead
     Drains the living of its intrinsic essence
     Devoid of remorse, loathe for sorrow,
     There are ties rooted in memory,
      Thicker than water, just as ephemeral.

        Ties that strangle when no facet of comprehension
        Encapsulate tthe ties that bind.
         But I am not rooted in things dead
         Nor do I wish to die in consideration of the retrospective flight
         From sorrow,
         As if the mob's approbation or wrath
          Ever impelled the wonderment rooted in things beautiful
          Engorged in my eyes.

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