They told me politics is a food chain. How elegant. How clean. How very convenient for the teeth at the top. I heard a man with polished hands explain the world as meat. The strong look down, the weak look up, and history must eat. He smiled as if the mountain were a perfectly natural thing: bone upon bone, mouth above mouth, and hunger wearing a ring. Yes, we are animals. I have no quarrel with the blood. But even wolves look at the moon and listen through the wood. So do not sell me your jungle dressed in a tailored suit. Do not call your appetite a philosophical truth. We are not just teeth. We are not just claws. We are not born to worship the oldest, dirtiest laws. Look up, you little emperors. Look up, before you fall. Above your hunger, there is a sky, and it is not listed among your possessions at all. You say: the chain is natural. You say: the top is earned. You say: the world is brutal, so let the weakest burn. But I have seen a human hand lift someone from the floor. I have seen a frightened voice become an open door. I have seen one act of mercy make a kingdom look obscene. And I have seen your clever cruelty mistake itself for clean. A predator with language is still a frightened thing if all it knows of heaven is how much it can bring down. We are not just teeth. We are not just claws. We are not born to worship the oldest, dirtiest laws. Look up, you little emperors. Look up, before you fall. Above your hunger, there is a sky, and it is not listed among your possessions at all. Listen. If you stand on the mountain and only look down, you will begin to believe that height is proof. It is not. Height is a question. Power is a test. And the universe is not impressed by a well-fed beast in a better chair. There is endless space above us. Endless ignorance. Endless light we have not earned. And you choose to count the bones? I want the upward animal. The one that learns the stars. The one that builds a window where others build the bars. I want the mind that trembles before what it cannot know. I want the heart made dangerous by refusing to stay low. So take your little food chain. Take your throne of appetite. I will keep one human scandal: the wish to reach the light. We are not just teeth. We are not just claws. We are not born to worship the oldest, dirtiest laws. Look up, you little emperors. Look up, before you fall. Above your hunger, there is a sky, and it is not listed among your possessions at all. We are not just hunger. We are not just fear. We are the creature that can wonder why the stars are here. So look up. Look up. Let the old chain break. A man becomes a predator when he forgets he can awake. They told me politics is a food chain. How elegant. How clean. I tell you: that is not wisdom. That is only a cage with good cuisine.
