The Ancestor of Anger
In primordial shape it must have stood tall
Waging fierce emotion from point to point
Like a veil undiscovered by its own pressure
If anything there is something stands to gain nothing
Just the very presence of its shape it defines feeling and defiance
Burning like no other, there is nothing like malice with its intent
Feelings that burrow in deep and based on instinct of impression
It is fighting that stems from something deep within.
A fierce determination that is bred from the most stark of feelings
Needing definition of no one, the raw feelings cannot be ill measured,
For it is not to placate someone, but is roused on that inner level
Surpassing instinct and serving only a purpose without word
There is no Creed, No feelings, just reaction
This very thing cannot be ceded by worth for it is alive within the blood
A predacessor true in similarity without the benefit of humanity behind it
True in definition to its shape, it was the ignition to what became key
Not in the negative, but something that simply is
Anger's prior point in place, perhaps of some latent from a time long past
This is the ancestor of anger.
What do we call this thing poem? One that came as a thought when I was sitting there writing about nothing in particular. This wasn't meant to be a poem, but became one on its own. It's amazing how that happens!