I never thought I could write a poem..It occurs to me that I can if I try. Well at least I think so. So my first attempt looks something like this:
I cast my pen upon the paper to write freedom,
Full of wisdom to give.
But no…words seem to have stuck somewhere;
What is freedom? I know…but I don’t know.
I might as well write thousand words to explain what freedom was
How doing your heart, was freedom
How simply peace, was freedom
Wind blowing in the hair was freedom
Singing your favorite song was freedom
Flying in the sky was freedom.
Still I’d be questioning my inner self;
Displeased with what freedom looked like to me
What is freedom? Have I ever been free in my life?
In a moment, I turn poignant.
Then a closer lens zooms in…
I see freedom has a different face.
I see breaking the stereotypes was freedom
Living life without fear was freedom
Opening arms to the new was freedom.
Freedom was beautiful.
Then again, in a different sight, freedom seemed more surreal.
Freedom was more intense and tricky.
Limitless was freedom’s other name…
Is our mind liberal enough to break the barriers of the universe to know freedom?
We are the captives of our own, knowing not,
Freedom is not in conquering the sky or the heart.
A hostage, physically barred may not be tamed inside.
Forlornly, a hipster alive under the open sky might not know freedom.
So, where is freedom? How does it look like? I question once again.
Is it hidden somewhere like those mysteries unsolved?
Waiting for someone to come and discover.
With many perspectives, not knowing which one is real;
I feel ignorant; the lack of knowledge curbs my zeal.
Freedom sees my dilemma, pities my curiosity
‘Oh human’, says she.
Freedom answers to my delight;
“I am nowhere to search around, nowhere to find”.
“For I am in the mind and only in your mind”.
