The freedom of our kind

Isn’t life today
All slavery

What kind of
What kind of slavery?

The slavery of worms
That slave on the soil
Blindly toiling away
Making the soil nice
For the roots

What is their reward?
What do they get in return?

They eat dirt
And are satisfied
But they are freer
Than human beings
That climb a mountain of rules
That run around a circuit of rules
Rules like
Sign here
Sign there
Fill in this
Fill in that
Is there such a thing
As bureaucracy for worms
No, they
Go this way
They go that way
They sleep when they want
They eat when they want
There’s no division of time for them
They work because they want to
They work because they enjoy it

There’s no interfaces
Like banks
Or governments
To get them following
A routine
That would give
Only rudimentary value
To the freedom of their kind

The freedom
Of our kind
I wonder if humanity
Will ever have
The freedom of our kind
Where we would fit in
With God’s creation
With the earth
Like the simple worm

Where is
The freedom of our kind

I’m sure it’s out there
To be discovered

Or maybe
It’s within us
Maybe it’s in the voice
Of our souls

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