Exhuming the Human....

Tinges of sanity
In watery strokes...
Painted across a landscape,
Of what they proudly call
Civilization.
Where weakness is run over,
And incapability is blamed,
On that poor dog
Which had merely tried
To cross over...
For the world knew
It always stood
Unaccounted for.
Where the voices within,
Are being silenced
With strategy...
As imagination is carefully tamed,
By repeated fables
Of lonely survival...
And swarms of machines
Are joining the stampede
With priceless perfection...
So their stars can hear,
That the fittest stood towering
In the battlefield...
Only to look around
At the piles of lifeless dreams....
Which wanted to sing
On softer notes...
And I wonder
How all that we believed
To be music to our ears,
Has suddenly turned
Into a tasteless din...
Are we still playing parts
In the makeshift arrangement
Of humanity?