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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2077978
by Naveed
Rated: E · Poetry · Philosophy · #2077978
A look at how the society destroys those who abandon thought.
To the south, next to the sea,
lies a city now ordinary.
The folks are thick as folks can be,
and "thinking is bad", their theory.

Such is the state, of a city once great;
what’s to become of such a place?
But hold! God gave a chance to set things straight;
sent a child to show the way of grace.

The child's a blessing in the storm,
for night's succeeded always by morn.
His soul's free from mundane norms,
and the nipper has greatness sworn.

He can be what he may dream;
the city's had its share of sardines.
Be a shark--king of the stream,
or the greatest leader ever seen.

But before his dreams mature with age;
the city sees a threat to its ways.
"Teach him to be gay in a cage."
dreams are crushed, potential--slayed.

Begins a life of journey in learning,
but not about morality, love or life.
He's taught only to make huge earnings,
and what's needed to seek a wife.

It's time, now, to love and marry;
money's what buys love, isn't it?
Dreams of greatness, no longer merry.
What’s more important than to baby-sit?

A mere shadow of what he could've been,
he spends his days earning a living.
He yearns, no longer, to grow from within;
always earning, but seldom aiding.

And lo! He's one with the city;
his worth or existence matters not.
He’s a sardine, like the majority;
the shark was corrupted by the seafloor lot.

Time's sly, it's pace deceiving;
oft dreams are found distant and old.
He's spent his life believing,
everything taught to be gold.

Set in stone were his beliefs;
impassable the thought of dying.
He believed all as told by chiefs;
would thinking first be damnifying?

Comes the time to lie flat on bed,
gasping, he finally thinks;
"All I did was plan ahead,
but for what?" Eyes heavily blink.

The foul shark--the etherized leader,
felt heavy with all the guilt he had.
Reminded of yearns for being a preacher;
all to realize: thinking isn't bad.

Darkness surrounds the moistened eyes--oblivion.
The townsfolk stand, shedding tears--sad.
No bead's spilled, yet, o'er the potential undone;
they lament his biased will, eyeing the wealth he had.

The man's history--not remembered or mourned--
but the city's still insignificant and naïve.
Hold! They say another nipper's born;
in 'thinking is bad', they'll always believe.

Line Count: 60
© Copyright 2016 Naveed (naveedsk at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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Printed from https://www.Writing.Com/view/2077978