It lies unseen, unrecognised
this band which draws us in,
where mind becomes committed
to what the rest believes.
Belief will come conditioned,
be formed by what we hear,
and we lose independence;
no thought, we just repeat.
We think we make our minds up,
we tell ourselves it’s so,
but often our opinions;
are just something bestowed.
We huddle even closer then,
the group has drawn us tight,
welcoming, receptive;
autonomy’s dark night. 

About rosross

Editor, writer, poet.
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