In Defiance

I have never been poetically inclined. Which is not the same as saying I have never tried my hand at it . Yesterday night or rather, today morning, I was watching Alexander. It was 3.30 in the morning and I could not sleep. This did not sound right in prose - hence the poetry. I don't know whether this even qualifies as poetry, what with the absence of rhyme or metre... I believe there is some influence of Ayn Rand's Atlas Shrugged. Anyway, here it is.

In Defiance

Tiger, be ashamed of your stripes,
Go paint your yellow white!
Then, you might fit in with the zebra clan
For, to be different my dear, is pride.

If you have wings, unfurl them not
Lest the mob find out and chop them off
Push away all thoughts of soaring high
For who be you, to reach for the Gods?

Work hard all day, glory in toil,
Each callus on your palm, a medal be
But ask naught in return for the sweat of your brow
For, to take your reward would be greed.

Give no voice to your dreams, dear heart,
Though they be grand and glorious,
Strive not ever to be better than another
For in our world, ambition is a sin.

They will clap you in chains for your defiance
Shake their heads as though it pained them
With well feigned kindness they would bid you listen
'Don't you see you erred my son?'

With honeyed words on forked tongues
They would speak whilst you listened entranced,
Till the weight of your guilt is upon you
And for the love of your peers you bend.

The words to you would seem hollow
Still raise their banner you would
And mingle your voice with theirs and cry-
'Joy in uniformity, pride in mediocrity, in equality we prevail!'

I'd sit on the sidewalk and mock you
As you go by toting your banners
You who would change your stripes
And shed your wings to be one with the faceless mob

'Why oh why?' I'd wonder and you'd say ' It is lonely at the top'
I would listen aghast at that treason to memory
Of the thousand joys there be on that glorious zenith
All you'd remember is solitude

If that be the price of success, then so be it
Give me a hundred years of that solitude
To know no shame for I am who I am
To claim what is mine without guilt
To stand on that summit with my head held high
Golden sunshine on my brow
To hear the whisper of wind in my ear -
'Brave heart, the world belongs to you.'