Assimilation

As the day grows to a close
and the sinking sun saps every last ounce of my strength
and the grass is still damp
(and I wish I'd taken that paper route)
I am a void---unfilled

But I can imitate and perpetuate
and follow like the lambs
whose woolen clouds cloud the last dusted remnants of daylight,
and I am one of them,

secretly believing that within
I am perfect
I am better, above,
beyond their words and their ways--
their passive attempts at assimilation.

So with love in my head,
I walk softly and listen carefully
and gently I find my way back into the migrating herd.