We wake before the light arrives,
Not dawn, but something staged,
The clock declares the hour as real,
Yet the body feels confined.
We dress and move to take our place
Beneath a borrowed sky,
And learn before the day begins
Which truths we must deny.
No iron binds the wrist or throat,
No warder guards the door,
Yet something tightens, notch by notch,
More certain than before.
It does not bruise, it does not bleed,
It leaves no mark to prove,
Except the grim compliance found
In everything we do.
The lights hum low and never die,
The dark is never whole,
A thousand windows flicker blue
And substitute the soul.
We scroll through polished ghosts,
A life confined to frames,
While something sacred disappears
Behind the human face.
We practice small submissions,
The nod, the tempered tone,
The careful check of many thoughts
We fear to call our own.
The ones who speak without the veil
Are marked and set aside,
Not feared for what they do,
But for what they will not hide.
No scaffold splits the public square,
No sentence rings aloud,
Yet silence serves the very same
Beneath a docile crowd.
And those who feel too much withdraw
Or stand at silent odds,
Not broken, yet unwilling still
To bow to lesser gods.
Something in them will not yield,
Though everything is tried,
A knowing none can truly teach
Yet will not be denied.
What strange affliction, then, to see
A world that has gone mad?
What sickness lies in naming loss
For all we truly have?
If order asks that we lose
The core of what is true,
Then let it keep its fragile peace,
We know what we hold to.
So, mark the ones who do not yield
Though standing set apart,
Who guard beneath the weight of things
An uncorrupted heart.
For though they walk through fractured days
Where hollow kingdoms gleam,
They are the final witnesses
To all we might have been.
May 12
May 12, 2026 at 4:51 PM UTC
We wake before the light arrives,
Not dawn, but something staged,
The clock declares the hour as real,
Yet the body feels confined.
We dress and move to take our place
Beneath a borrowed sky,
And learn before the day begins
Which truths we must deny.
No iron binds the wrist or throat,
No warder guards the door,
Yet something tightens, notch by notch,
More certain than before.
It does not bruise, it does not bleed,
It leaves no mark to prove,
Except the grim compliance found
In everything we do.
The lights hum low and never die,
The dark is never whole,
A thousand windows flicker blue
And substitute the soul.
We scroll through polished ghosts,
A life confined to frames,
While something sacred disappears
Behind the human face.
We practice small submissions,
The nod, the tempered tone,
The careful check of many thoughts
We fear to call our own.
The ones who speak without the veil
Are marked and set aside,
Not feared for what they do,
But for what they will not hide.
No scaffold splits the public square,
No sentence rings aloud,
Yet silence serves the very same
Beneath a docile crowd.
And those who feel too much withdraw
Or stand at silent odds,
Not broken, yet unwilling still
To bow to lesser gods.
Something in them will not yield,
Though everything is tried,
A knowing none can truly teach
Yet will not be denied.
What strange affliction, then, to see
A world that has gone mad?
What sickness lies in naming loss
For all we truly have?
If order asks that we lose
The core of what is true,
Then let it keep its fragile peace,
We know what we hold to.
So, mark the ones who do not yield
Though standing set apart,
Who guard beneath the weight of things
An uncorrupted heart.
For though they walk through fractured days
Where hollow kingdoms gleam,
They are the final witnesses
To all we might have been.
The Burden of the Sane is a philosophical reflection on alienation, conformity, and the erosion of the human spirit in modern society. Through existential imagery, it explores the weight carried by those who remain emotionally conscious in a world shaped by performance, obedience, and digital detachment. The poem honors those who resist losing their authenticity, conscience, and moral center in systems that reward silence and self-erasure.
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