A CRY FOR FREEDOM © 2008

Long are the moments

That compel me to think,

Losing myself in slow labyrinths,

Where the mind insists on wandering.

Short are the thoughts I write,

I prefer them transient, to immigrate,

Without roots anchoring them to the ground,

Just puffs of ideas, drifting.

In the search, like a search engine,

Of an internet server,

Always in pursuit that blinds me,

The soul that never commits.

Only a going, in the delight of being,

In a constant flow, without stopping,

Through the dissatisfaction of truly knowing

What it is, in fact, to live and love.

Thus, I let the thoughts fly,

Without pretension of holding them,

For it is in the ephemeral that I expose myself,

To the essence of learning to live.

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