By-Two Kaapi in an oilfield

In the dim corridor I squat,
Staring at the moonlit trees.
The darkness fascinates me,
For I feel the presence of a light.

For the good of everything,
It is an unsaid story of the light.
The illumination that we all seek,
Ain't satisifed by the sun or the moon.

As I extinguish the cigar in my hand,
I know, its light was not enough either.
The spark needed to ignite my mind,
Does not fall from the stars I stare at.

I talk, to people and more people,
And I begin to see a new light.
I laugh at the chauvinism, at the dumbness,
At the lack of passion in them.

One thing doesn't amuse me at all,
All it does is make my blood boil.
The pathetic wait for somebody,
For somebody to guide, inspire, spoon-feed.

I frown, I shout filth, I spit,
At the world that encourages mediocrity.
A system, which I dare to beat,
that worships the ordinary, should not exist.

As my nerves cool down with the breeze,
I grin in silent contempt.
For I have found the spark, the light,
Where else do I go...when I am the light.