The Cruelty of Routine

We have let ourselves find comfort in 

familiarity.

It has bred a complacent heart in me

that cares only for its routines.

This is dangerous.

This is deadly.

This can only bring about one end.

Whose hand gazes upon

and turns the wheel?

There is a change breeding

in my blood, 

in my lungs,

in my heart

that must succeed.