Synopsis of Life

Rwenzori Mountains. Image-internet

What am i?

i am but a scarred and discarded,

twig of life

swept up and carried off

like a war bride

this old life

coasting about,

a damp but buoyant twig,

a fleeting thought,

and just as inconsequential

as the flightless emu

a captain-less ship,

torn from it’s moorings

liberally adrift on the open seas,

in search of strong hands,

that’ll pull me ashore

i am a speck of dust

carried by a desert wind

what am i?

am i a character,

in another man’s script?

me thinks i am

i am the charge

of the man in uniform

i am a vassal of the state

my well-being depends

on the capricious views of others,

what i am not

i am not free

far from it,

my very person is not my own

though i may independently contract

or claim to have natural rights

that which i have permitted entry into my life

has robbed me of my freedom

at the end of it all,

i am just a flower,

in someone else’s garden

may the flower bloom

(with full intention)

may the tide rise

and carry me home

under a full moon

e’en as the night is gone

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