Ants and Roaches

How often the question
How often the ignoring
How often the reality
That as a species
We live lives
According to someone else’s purpose

Perhaps

Too many move through life
Embracing factotum
Embracing servile doctrine
Pushing religion
Obsessing scholastic attainment
Conquering career lures

While forgetting

Fulfillment eludes man-made designs
Reliant instead on discovery
The inner being transparent

Many hold
We ignore our divine destiny
To Be

Such a quandary
This idea of Being
Thinking we know what we want
What we need
Who we truly are

Yet

Few choose to seek “their truth”
Opting instead to crawl through endless trenches
Of waste and human rubble
Enduring razor-like suffering
Only to remain a stranger to one’s self

Sadly
These scars of self-mutilation subtly spread
Metastasizing into bondage of heart and mind
Leading to perhaps one last question

Will our species ultimately become
But alien anthropological studies
Proving our existence as a dot under the cosmic microscope
But an ironic exercise
For revealing who we ultimately
Were not?

Or

Might the oldest instinct of the planet
Finally kick in?

Ants and roaches
Know survival
We should know more

Do we?