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
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