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?
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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.