A CRY FOR FREEDOM © 2008

From which sailed sea

Did I emerge in fate, still not having become

The winged ship on the waves,

That floated over the winds of life?

The departure, so long and uncertain,

Has yet to return, nor end,

And the revolt, silent and awake,

Continues to burn within me.

From what matter was I shaped,

That, closed, still has not raised

The sword, kept in my chest,

That drives me to be the soldier I was not?

Freedom, that conquest yet to come,

Yearns for a stage, an open scene,

To be a play, a revue to emerge,

In the life where the soul awakens.

But while I neither arrive nor depart,

I sail lost, in search of being,

That on the waves of time, so abundant,

Finds in itself the reason to live.

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