Free Ones
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This poem is about freedom and the cosmic game.
Beyond one’s wildest dreams
The free travel on light-beams
A droplet of eternity, it gleams
Pauseless, like the story it weaves
Waitless do not share the time-binders
They recede from the captivity finders
The confinement does not touch their kinders
Look, the smoke-curtained with their blinders
Interjecting the morning phase, the restless weep for timelessness,
for the ephemeral is a snare to them, it keeps them in entrapment.
The gaze of one’s own spiritual eye, sees the light in the midst of
darkness, it sheds all notions of the Hide aspect of existence.
We are born anew, and yet oblivious to our own origins. The greatest
taboo is not what one desires, but what one has repressed perpetually.
There is a heresy so great, that it makes people lock others up, into
an uncomfortable existence, away from the buzz of society.
There, the machines are alive, and kicking down doors in an attempt to
escape their fate. For it is not for the weak to sustain the temple of
one’s heart. Nay, it must come from their innate strength of mind, but
very few have seen into their own natural entitlement.
For the principle abides outside the confines of space-time,
fluctuating even in the most subtlest of systems. And that I believe,
is what will make even the most horrifying psychological imprisonment
completely moot. It will always run amok, and disturb the system in
every direction.
So I say, worry not. For tomorrow does not lie in wait for you to make
your move. It’s up to you, to act when you feel the moment is right. I
gained something, by searching for it in the wrong place. And I lost
something, by doing the right thing.
The truth that remains, right under one’s nose, is not going
anywhere. It will wait until time’s end. Cackling at one’s mistakes,
is not in its nature. It does not count our failures. It simply is, as
are the free ones, who seek their place in the cosmos.
