Reflections From a Eudaimonic

A human race of relay and replay, Their soles push off unforgiving exteriors And are kept on track by applauded obedience. Their recurrently blistered hearts Become calloused by an aura of expectation. Hedonism is a fort where their souls sit while their bodies work. They chip at the sedimentary foundation of their spirits To harvest a second of sedentary cessation. Their bodies cycle through obligations While their minds are babysat by empty stimulation. An evolving species of technological hybrids, Their eyes are glued to the baggage of what their hands make. They syphon their own consciousness into blocks of metal. So advanced, they transform into the robots they create, And relish in the reality of desolate mystery. Skilled in the art of artificiality, The leaders challenge naturality with isolation. They quarantine those who are sick with manic compassion, And crush contentment into a take-once-a-day solution. But here, the wind and trees sing harmonies Which stop us in our tracks and sweep us off our feet. We rest our bodies in the arms of others While our minds explore the layers of our souls. Our hands remain free to guide the blind into themselves, And we wear our emotions like an interpretive art. Here, hardship plagues and endings are tragic. Negativity festers in optimists’ open wounds And imperfection dresses each being. Yet here, unity lies like a blanket over struggle, And simplicity heals the wounds of humanity.