Rejecting the Script

I am not my mind
I am not my body
I am not this beating heart
neither breath, thought, joy nor pain
what I think I am is
trapped, disconnected and distracted
a muzzled voice in the dark
a reluctant voyeur
trying to remember
my mission -
decided before the veil was cast
and the first gasp
before the script was assigned. 

Neither am I your cattle
a product to be strip-mined for it's ingenuity, creativity and labor

I am not fodder for your gristmill
I was not born to service or entertain  
but to expand
to evolve