The night looms,
gloomy and grotesque.
The chants of the Dogma,
piercing through the impenetrable skies,
“I am doing this for your own good.”
“I know better than you.”
Preaching a warped perception,
cynicism.
Self-care perceived as selfishness,
vile and cruel.

In the distance lies an astral clocktower,
dauntless,
obliterating the darkness,
run by a series of intricately placed gears.
All working in harmony,
circumventing the anarchy.

You are one of these gears.
You seem small.
Insignificant.
Your vision seems hazy, almost dream-like.
As the clock strikes twelve,
Your perspective is morphed
You see the grand scheme of it all,
realising that you are at the center of it all,
producing profound energy.
The Dogma comes back to you,
seduction it’s weapon
that you might need his aid
to be efficient.
But you are self-sufficient.

The astral clocktower beckons,
Its overwhelming presence
shattering what is and isn’t,
breaking all hindrances.

The clock now strikes one,
one with the cosmos.
One with you.