Leaving my Hive

Dreams or nightmares
All the same to me
I sleep that of the dead
Not a movement
Not a flash of REM
Blackness and quiet
Urged into action
A busy world
Discomforts
The land
Upon the waking
Dawn cracks the surface
Of the horizon
But I refuse
The beckoning
I refuse the command
To be
What others demand
Of me
By midday I am getting burned
My neck is red from the sun
Beating down
As I walk through the dust
And sand
Midwaist knee deep
My guts churn
The path I follow
Isn't easy
Nor does it matter
It is the only one
I am allowed
I move
As the world
Feels it has done
Something
By making nothing
By breaking something
Creation or destruction
Nothing matters
So long as they look busy
In their hills
Busy
Doing nothing
While I walk
To the end
Again