Uniformity

Oh how uniform we all try to be 
The sidewalks straight and roads lined with paint 
Even in the straight lines and sweet rhymes of this poetry 

 

How uniform we all try to be 
But not the mountains  
Not the forests 
Not the sea 

 

How straight we have built this prison in which we stand 
Built of mortar and bricks  
Formed of stolen ocean sand 

 

And against the tide of unruly nature we divide 
The hills from their brothers 
The plains from their sisters 
As the road winds lifeless through the tranquil hillside 

 

Oh to be one with nature and see it untarnished by the sight of man 
My eyes grow weary of the muted colors and looming monoliths of my urban land 

 

 

How free the eagle must be as he charts this orderless bliss 
How long I have yearned for the sight of the mountain and her cool, windy kiss 

 

For now I settle for yearning to save me from man’s excuse for civility 
Bound by order, the dollar, and conformity 

 

I long to sleep under the stars in the crook of the mountain crag 
And wake to the fresh air filled with birdsong and the sight of the swift bounding stag 

 

So with this dream I fall to sleep and go to a place of nocturnal waters 
Where time is a fantasy and reason a joke 
Where the majesty of the mind is madness and all uniformity falters.