It is a common observation
That things are either bound or free
And this gives birth to misconceptions
On nature’s own duality

Just like a boulder in seclusion
An object tied is never loose
It has potential in profusion
Yet nothing stored is ever used

In contrast, like a cuckoo bird
An object loose is free to roam
With nothing owned, and all things shared
Yet nowhere to be called a home

But how the stable knows of freedom?
And of the joys of taking flight?
For in the well, where he is hidden
The skies seem dark in broad daylight

And how the liberated figures
To perch and quench on rushing spume?
Since from the heavens, even rivers
Are thinner than a feather’s plume

The trick is repetition thousands
And millions, and some billions more
Each item through the options browse and
Decides to settle, or to soar

Then from this binary decision
The choice is neither ridge nor flock
And one can say, with some conviction
All compromise the bird and rock

Take heart, and listen to this lesson
In life you often have to choose
‘tween earthly form and spirit essence
You gain, but on the same time lose

A man is bound by his possessions
A man with none, will starve for sure
To thrive, one must apply discretion
And choose which path to him allures

Lo, such is life, optimization
Of energy and entropy
You minimize their combination
In hope that this will set you free

The first step is the hardest
the second, harder still
    a steeper step, I follow through
    my world, it seems, is built askew
     my goal, to clime that hill

     Yet not all treads are equal
        some forward
    some reverse
    a trail is nowhere to be found
  its easier to turn around
the valley ground, a curse

But patience is a virtue
  persistence is a key
   surmounting mountains is a must
   when voices urge within each gust
   escape, and you go free

     Those winds, they carry forward
         and inching steps amass
      a lifetime spent inside a ditch
            and suddenly the trough is breached
                     I reach the top at last

                     But legs, they know just walking
                     not how to stand and cheer
                    inertia pull, and I comply
                    across, and to the other side
                 it’s all downhill from here

There’s irony
In our struggle to resolve
In our vain attempt to state
That if we decompose the world
And isolate
The properties of every element
We can construct it bottoms-up
In all its former glory

Yet nature still resists
For it is not made of the details
But of all that manifest between
It is not balanced on a needle
But emerges from the pattern sewn
From the answer, not to “Why?”
But to “Why not?”

If we just distance the objective
From the subject, that is subjective by default,
And take a glance from far enough
The universe unfolds
A whole
Much larger than its parts

The same way motion
Is not defined for isolated sole
Same as color
Is never measured by a single pulse
The same way poetry
Does not exist within a single word
Creation
Is not the grains, but the coast whole
That lets us know just where
The sea begins

Life, just like before,
Collide with us non-stop
Pushing from and pulling back to
Our mutual starting point
And each time
We come in through the door
A little more fatigued
A little bit more bruised
A little less familiar
We sit at the same table
Drink from the same cup
And watch
From our never-changing spot
How the distance between us
Grows larger
Still