Freedom
Let the morning bird be for you the alarm
and the cricket song your sweet lullaby.
Let the sunrise empower you to shine again
so to be at peace in the soft glow of twilight.
Let the vain and proud priorities
that we so consistently harbor
be washed away at the persistent music of the rain,
at the thundering noise of the storm
and the blinding light of the clouds;
how else would the seedling grow and turn to life
if not by getting drunk in the droplets of sky?
Let the blooming flower be your clock
and the patient caterpillar the yardstick of your time.
Let the mountain in its majesty
be your humbling humility;
Let the rivers in their course
chart the map of your breathing.
For nothing lives simply to survive
but takes in only to give back,
ever sharing, ever passing,
all that's been given from above,
saying: "freedom isn't doing what you want
but rather learning how to love."