Hegemony.

Filtering brainwaves,
a demon gliding down the Nile
without a wooden basket,
without the pharaoh's daughter
to safeguard a wearisome
destiny.

Is the world an ailment
we are not wise enough
to surmount,
or are our reflections
a syndrome to
elusive pain?

For my enemies
did not escape the King's
decree, their roots were
slaughtered and
I wonder if they
lurk in scorched soil
of Egypt's plagues.

Who is a prophet?
Is there another Moses,
reluctant yet leading
the enslaved to secure,
holy ground?
What promises are
implied for me?

I have not held stone
tablets before my people.
The thunder hasn't
struck me, yet.

You abrade my cerebral
hemispheres, causing
infinite blindness.
Nothing is concrete.
You perceive society
as a substantial resource-
yet I lose that meaning
when I lose control
of what you call
individualism.

You are too generous,
too fixated on sensations
to let me form my own.

And I keep coasting
down that river,
not recognizing what
history to follow
or what pillars
are sincere.

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Written 2/26/14 @ 8:09 PM