Recumbent is a position of powerlessness yet
Lying prone I view life and situation oppositely of normal vision
Though I can feel the heat of the soil beneath my face
The brush of blades against my nose
The moisture of the recent percipitation with my chin
Though my world view tells me that lying down is weak
The folds of my brain yearn to discover something aside
That which it holds to so tightly
My psyche extends its aura in every direction
Hoping its tendrils will at least accidentally caress a new feeling
The patina covered bronze that is deeply wound inside
Brings the machine to a grinding halt all too frequently
Lacking a metallurgists touch to help free it
From its self chosen prison where it feeds on agony
Dispensed precisely because of its presence
Cyclically as that of a sound wave
Only this situations amplitude knows no limit
Its frequency is no respecter of schedule or emotions
Its decibel level exceeds perceived sound in both directions
So I push my torso up until I am on my knees and stand
One foot at a time
Exactly how I walk this planet
Exactly how I progress in life
Exactly how I must approach every facet of my existence
This recently acquired love for such a low perspective
Affords me the opportunity to appreciate those times
When my fortune brings me to the zenith
Enables me to understand that as long as I retain my faculties
I shall never be bound to the soil