One in Many

There is no God for the likes of me

The physical being has phagocyted my soul

My expression, the feelings got muffled

They don’t exist, they are not true

Shhh

The mosaic of cells is connecting the dots

They follow a pattern, they create a consciousness

They’re unaware of themselves

Blind little soldiers

Dying and connecting in pursuit of a goal

That is unknown to them and elusive to me