“Mustangs”

Some have reasoned that to “feel” is a waste
Of time, that mind over matter is the futuristic answer
To experiencing true living….

I am tomahawked at such independent thinking;
Cloistering the soul from the bitter and the sweet,
Like the oyster refusing to open…

Most go in search of aggrandizement, the lace
And fringe of exclusion, superiority and hoarding
For the sake of mere illusion…

Others resume to meditation and feng shui for balancing
The unknown to eclipse the known within that
Inevitably is non-evaporable…

If I am not mistaken, a mustang must be broken
Before it can be swift and, beautiful as its nature
For true joy’s collusion.