At least once, I wanted to know
it seems everything I touch
or see
Is a beautiful sunset,
a moment to treasure
or a revelation of the choice I must make,
to pretend I am free,
because what is free without industriousness;
could it be only the fantasy of the young;
those who once thought of changing the world,
who never believed that time would change them;
bending them towards reality
for who would care for them as they reject convention
and what is convention if not a way to survive?
is there the reflection of fire in our champagne
is there the cloud waiting at the bottom of the ocean
each drifting, an image or unseen, but real
we forget our past and drink to the future,
or we remember the times we loved,
and wonder if it could ever happen again;
or instead must I choose to accept that I am not free
I have a role in life, a cloud to provide water,
a root to feed the wood; a leaf to cool the ground;
the grass to feed the fauna;
a hind-quarter to feed a family; a child to grow;
a book to teach; a thought to decide;
to decide if I am free
living on my own
apart from the world that was built by others
to reject it because I believe it is wrong
to think that I don’t need them
or it
to wander before canyons
and peaks
to live off the land
and to pass without asking for help;
is that my freedom
or is it just my desire to play freedom,
until I realize that the world does not care for me
and then what;
what did I build for my life
for my children, if I would have them;
for my aging body
will I laugh at convention then
when I am no longer able to invent my own language
because those who follow are inventing their own
and making the same choice
to pretend to be free
or to begin digging the same hole that swallowed me whole