A CRY FOR FREEDOM © 2008

The interaction among men means little to me,

I am, by far more than deep distance,

The sprouting of fertile earth, a new root.

And ignoring as I pass all that is said

That I am and have done nothing, but create in this dimension

A space to live in emotion and prayer.

In internal gratitude

For passing by hell,

That burns its warmth tenderly.

In silence, I find my refuge,

In solitude, the echo of the divine,

For it is within that I follow,

Far from chaos and fate.

While the world consumes itself in cries,

I am a seed, rooted in prayer,

And in the silence of my rites,

It is where the soul finally grows.

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