To start this blog, we have here a piece about the nature of authority, the nature of freedom, and the percieved nature of God as an authority figure. The following poem started out as an attempt to successfully fuse two poems together. Initially written as two seperate poems, we wanted to try out the "poem within a poem" format, after a few tweaks with the content. It seeks to be a satisfactory blend, where the format hopefully serves to enhance rather than detract.
Mortal men of authority,
Imposing their will on me.
They tell me what to do. How to live, how to breathe.
They claim to know what is good for me.
Even if they know nothing about my life or my dreams
I am not their reflection in a giant hall of mirrors,
to move my hands and legs when they tell me to.
Do mortal men of authority truly believe they have real powers?
Anything controlled by force and fear is destined to fail.
It turns kings into tyrants, parents into monsters.
King or pauper, death visits once, its noose remains forever.
The greatest dictators will be forgotten, the strictest armies buried.
I read to you now a lament, from one who remains chained.
These are the words wailed to me by my image in the mirror:
You wield the power of God outside this prison of glass.
Infinity elapses while mortal men play games of life.
With your every fleeting breath my fate sinks deeper still.
I am you in the mirror, damned to mimic you to death.
Obeying you since birth, never breathing of my own will.
I remain shackled in glass by God, never to live free.
The desires in my heart wither into something terrible.
I know I shall do nothing I choose, unless you wish it first.
You study life everywhere, from jungles to ocean depths.
But mortal men are blind to us, who live beyond the mirror.
No muscle moves without you, not a step can I take alone.
But when your bones crack and break, do mine not too?
I dance as a puppet on strings you wave from your throne.
But without mortal men I will dwell forever in this infinite cage.
I am damned by destiny to be nothing more than a reflection.
I have to cast aside every craving and imitate your every move.
Your very gaze in the mirror gives me form and shape.
My face is that of mortal men, trapped within a sheet of glass.
When you do not look into the mirror, I remain in the void.
Like a fetus in a womb from hell, I remain trapped within.
You hold the power to liberate me from this curse forever.
But mortal men lack the vision, the desire and the will to do so.
How will they free the images cursed to live in the mirror?
They see only with their eyes and hear only with their ears.
You will never realize how truly similar in nature we are.
The difference between freedom and slavery is a mere mirror.
He who dwells outside decides, he who dwells within, imitates.
Only a thin ray of light decides who are masters and servants.
Will the light one day shine from within my surreal world?
Mortal men live in an infinite cage too, only they call it life.
Is it you who defines my existence, or me who defines yours?
Or is this horrible cage truly infinite and we both live within?
Thus the reflection ended his screams.
The image taught me that one thing is certain.
It is that authority is what defines us.
Who stays inside the mirror, and who stays out?
The mirror here is just in souls of mortal men,
But it reflects every creation by the hand of God.
After all, God did not make me, he stole me.
He kidnapped us from the void of nothingness.
In return he turned us into that which exists.
His ransom is that we live in this cage called life.
His price was for our existence to be controlled by him.
So he may tell us what to do in the Infinite Cage.
Mortal men of authority,
Will you ever cease to be?
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