I have often felt like a man out of time. In this age of evolving technology, it seems my mindset is one better suited for a past era, or a future one (it really depends on my mood). Whatever the case, "modern times" have never been mine, for various reasons, and this little poem I threw together quite a while ago expresses that feeling of displacement.
Don't be afraid to buck populist trends!
Crawling through evolution,
looking out upon the future,
seeing all civility fading
from the face of homosapiens.
Yet when the thought of this
shadow of a society seems
sickening in our eyes,
it must mean
we missed the mark.
On our spiritual trek
across eternity,
we chose the wrong century.
For we are ready for things
these people have not begun to see,
and life's about learning what
we're not here to learn,
and all about getting things
we can't seem to find.
What a sorrowful plight,
this quest of human life.
What do we get
from a world that lies sleeping
in such primeval might?
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