A CRY FOR FREEDOM © 2008

To live, what is it? I have forgotten.

The essence has drained my soul,

On the short path of my steps,

Where silence no longer soothes me.

But I still have vague memories,

Shadows of a time I no longer know,

And they are what remains, illusions

Served on the plate of what I will never have.

Daily I feed myself

Like a guard dog without a kennel,

With senses alert to the wind,

Awaiting something that never springs forth.

For I only have a threshing floor,

That wants me without a boundary,

And in the emptiness of a life without direction,

I count the days waiting for fortune.

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