Why are we so confined
By labels designed
To separate and define:
|This| and |That|?

Have we become so bleak,
We can’t see the unique?
Do some still think
This world’s flat__?

Do we only perceive
The beliefs we received
When we were conceived
Without question  

Do we simply look
At the cover of the book
And know what opinion it took
First impression?

We are not confined
                              To articulately designed
          Words that define
                                             Who we are

We are not a belief
                     Nor a structured motif
           Stuffed delicately into
                                                             A bell jar

In this one-way-or-the-other
World
Somewhere in the black and white
Find the gray mixed in the middle
and one day you just might
tell yourself,

I am a human being
Incomplete but slowly seeing
That I do not have to be
What the world wants to see
Because the truth is this:

I define: |mē|.