Captive of the routines, encircled with iron bars of habits,
– Cocoons of tightly woven threads, – the spirit rebels.
The “ghost in the machine” groans, raising its hands upward,
To escape from the imperatives;
Algorithms, imprinted from the time of Homo erectus,
And Chimps,
Identical ceremonies and schedules, –
Automatisms, clothes in the garments of social decorum,
Territoriality and civility,
Masked as duties, musts and such.
The spirit yearns to be free,
To act in alternatives and to dream of things that have never been,
And as whim dictates, to walk in space, for tours and magic,
Earth and habit bound, it resents.


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