Everyday I die a little more
my spirit suppressed, feeling it is lying prostrate on the floor,
helpless to prevent the ever-present, spirit slaying routine,
of get up, drive to work,
sit in the office, drive home, sleep,
get up, drive to work…

I know I must break this cycle,
this circle of spiritual death.
The endless circuits driven by the all consuming, screaming vortex of civilisation,
slowly pulling me to a predetermined doom,
the slippery downward slope with barely a handhold, tiring my soul,
effortlessly thwarting my attempts of escape.

…until recently, when I discovered the voice of my heart.
I know now that I was born with it, and that modern life hid it,
and that we’ve spent too long apart.
It’s strength is growing, it’s voice becoming ever louder,
and it’s power is now starting to rival the pull of the vortex.
I can’t yet climb away from the darkness of that spinning abyss,
But I am now finding footholds that resist the descent to spiritual oblivion.

I have caught a glimpse of the lifeline being thrown my way.
It is still out of reach, and out of focus,
but I know now that it is there.
I’m searching for more footholds to help me climb to it,
to defeat the inexorable pull of cultural expectation.
I desperately hope that I can reach it before I’m too old… before it’s too late.

I look around, and see others caught in the pull,
slowly travelling down the slope of oblivion.
Most are utterly unaware… as I was.
Are you one of them…?

I wonder if one day I will be the one at the other end of the lifeline,
lowering the rope of life to those who notice it.
Maybe we will meet one day… but first I have to escape to the bright lights above,
and to breathe the fresh air of future dreams,
and of those that will already have come true.

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