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.