Freedom, A Mirage

In freedom if I search for freedom's fruits— Sweet or sour— there's freedom nor free spirit, And fear there's of getting caught in deep roots, A song sings off tune, off pitch, out of beat. And the freedom fought for oft won't be won, For, ensconced in a prison's cosy wall, One might feel, blest he's hallowed by heaven, Yon of all struggles and strife, gore and gall, For, freedom is free choice— if a free fall, Whilst warm, safe and benign may feel bondage, It's strange but man feels safe oft in a cage, And prison need be not of a brick wall. Mirage is it— like blank space not yet walled, Ask a poet long on his last line stalled. _____________________________________________________ Freedom goes with free choice and often one feels it is nigh but mirage. Often there is safety in a cage, and cosy feel prison's walls. Prose may seem to provide a lot of freedom, not poetry. Yet, a kind of verdant imagination possible in poetry is not there in prose. Further, blank space is freedom for a poet, so is an unstructured poem. But it is an open space not yet walled. Yes, he has a free choice insofar as imagination goes. ______________________________________________________ Sonnets | 03.06.18 |