Are our wants 

needs in breeding?

and our needs

beaded with the distractions

that feed our desire?

Is it love or is it lust?

Is it purpose 

or are we lost?

Driven by passions

that drive past our minds

Passed on as pastures

Fodder for cattle

Prepared for the slaughter 

Who are we? 

Are we the ones we know?

Or are our reflections masks

maxing the maxims

That a book's meaning is 

covered beneath 

its hardened shell

If we dare look beneath

the clutter and the speediness 

Of all we have convinced ourselves

we are,  we want or need,

I fear we would stare 

at blank pages, 

and armed with shaky hands 

and the pen of years to come

I pray we feel the need to fill

the pages of our existence

with a life, 

devoid of the distractions

that feed our desire.