see in the distance past a shadow; hundreds of arms and tentacles stretching across each choice, and passion, forming these chains and manacles of hyperbolic grief. Belief. though the thread weaves its way in silence, we, both the weavers and the caught, see how the paths we choose, though random, lead to a destination never sought, nor reckoned on. Now gone. it is in knowledge, contemplation comes both joy and consternation that we have chosen these ideas to bind ourselves with, soul and mind and doomed, like Edom. Where is freedom?
I agree wholeheartedly. I often wonder myself how truly free any of us are? There are things I’ve known, and could have done; places I could have visited and explored but have never had the opportunity arise, through whatever set of circumstances, ordinary or otherwise. Perhaps I should start writing again… thanks so much for sharing.