The Allegory of the Cage

The Allegory of the Cage I have not written much of late; I toil in my hamster wheel. While ev'ry sage of ev'ry age Will gape with wonder at my cage, And speak in voices small and still About my stilted, careworn gait. Yet when I do find time to write, I'll leave my cage, in mind alone. But if I'm sad and terror-clad, You'll know how deeply I've gone mad, When slashing sinew, skin and bone To cleave a thought on pages white. Now writ with expurgated bile, My caustic words are dark and spare. I've filled the pages with my rages Over others' self-made cages. As they trudge without a care And bear it all with practiced smile. For, I know what they don't see; Our hamster wheels are hooked to naught. With blinded sight, and faces tight, They churn and burn their wheels with might, And not a lone, insightful thought Will loose their bonds and set them free. I cry out loud, an anguished howl, Still knowing I will join back in. Yet all the tears from lengths of years While fleeing from our deepest fears, Can never heal a single sin, Nor soothe away a single scowl. So, in I go to man my post. I coax my wheel back up to speed. I'm better now. I know not how, But sidle up beside my trough And eat the slop I do not need, Because I'm better off than most. I have not written much but this, My musings on a ghastly fate: We turn our wheels and chase our heels Forgetting how it truly feels To live and die, to love and hate; Our ignorance indeed is bliss. © Copyright 2007 Shawn H. Hall - All Rights Reserved