The Prisoner

Controlled from somewhere out of line of fire,

Ordered to do that which he cannot see,

Man acquiesces, acting as if free,

Prepared to accept his conscience’s ire.

Until he comprehends that his entire

Traumatic situation has to be

Endured only if he chooses, will he

Realize not to what he must aspire.

Prisoner in his body, he hears sounds

Recorded in his brain as bits of noise:

Organized confusion to keep him blind.

Gradually he’ll see over the bounds

Restricting his vision: there will he poise,

Mechanical Man becalming his Mind.

Sonnet XXV