Gears and cogs may structure my mind,
but the blood that pumps through my veins
from that tireless muscle called my heart
is not so falsely refined.
It carries the courage and kindness of the past,
from centuries of ancestors steadying themselves
in the ever changing mechanical world,
learning and embracing developments that last.
Through the uprisings and scandals they stayed,
never shying away from the outcast and feared,
those deemed less than human by kin,
keeping hope alive in the darkest of days.
So don’t be deceived by the whirs and the grinds
that sound from my body as I move to stand
for I am greater than my wiring,
I am one not easily defined.
Treeshallow Musings 