Blind following is regressive: Quintains


 Blind following is regressive:  Quintains

A rule made on whim, quite unheard,
Brain washed, we blindly copy the absurd,
Are folly's firm base.
Rituals we embrace,
At power's blind beck, are a turd.

Someone stuck in old, dusty ways,
Finds darkness in all of its days.
Unkind deeds it sows,
Where no goodness grows,
True life, in reflection, now stays.

To question, to grow, to be free,
Reflect on what used to be.
With thought as your guide,
Cast shadows aside,
A critical, self-knowing you, glee!


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