Beast

The beast was stunted
In the growth of the mind
That could not find
The place
Where those before him lay
The history lost
Only one beast left
Where did he come from?
Only the memory of himself
Nothing to pass on
Nothing to be passed on.
How did this happen?
Why was he a beast?
What’s in a name,
For any other name
Would not be
As bitter…..
As brittle…..
Seemed so strong
But most fragile of them all
The beast
On his own
Where is the beauty?
How does it come from within,
When all that surrounds
Is dried up?
Drought
Is the soul of the beast
Dried up too?
Questioning etiquette
Treatment of another
Not knowing how
Because alone
Never taught
How will the beast
Learn?
How will the beast
Fight instinct,
While at the same time
Embrace it?
Isn’t at least part of him
Part of him?
Or does the beast need
A complete rejection of self?
To put on a new exterior
To match the possibility
Of a new interior
Not inferior
Not an imposter
But a more true
Inner self
That ever existed
In the history of himself
If there is a history now,
What will it be made of?
How does the beast move forward?
The beast can continue
To devour
To waste
Everything in sight
Or intrinsically
Perhaps maybe
Somwhere within, at least
There may be a purity
Not yet found
And innocence within
Offer up the incense beast
only he himself can