NaPoWriMo 2015 23

Today we are free.

But not truly so, as it is not possible to consider anyone
Bound into the human condition to have achieved any
Real iteration of freedom, in the not-being-bound-by-
Whatever-chains-that-you-perceive fashion. And
For each of us those chains are our own making, and
Of our own acceptance. We walk this earth, each step
Making another infinitesimal imprint on the land, and
We drag the chains that have held our minds, that bind
Our hands, that gag our lips, and we haul them with us
On every step of our mortal journey. No prayer can
Relieve us of their weight, no sacrifice can bury them
In a deep grave, and no amount of tears will ever
Dissolve them, our immortal and eternal chains.
So we can but embrace the temporary illusion
Of freedom, as when floating, in water, or perhaps
Free-falling through space and time. We can turn our
Faces to the sun, and welcome its fair glance, we can turn
Our eyes to the world that surrounds us, seek out the
New growth, the fresh leaves, the budding flower, and
We can but take solace from such small glimpses
Of the true heaven. We can look for angels' wings
In the soaring bird-flight of the seagull, in the circling
Majesty of the waiting buzzard, or in the darting
Flash of the bluetit. We can look for the shine of
Angels' eyes in the sparkle of the chattering stream,
As it hurries on its way over rock and stone, down
Waterfall and through ferny glen. And in these things,
In these things, perhaps we can find freedom.

© 2nwitch, 23/04/15