Capricious

81 - Liberté

"The most important kind of freedom is to be what you really are."
- Jim Morrison

Lasting treasure, here the blind do not weep, for we know deep the blazing ride of life, and the united story we share.

We bring extremes into our identity, to help explain what we do not know about ourselves, ignorant perhaps, we end up becoming something else.

Distant lights of gold glowing, within my sight, through wet marshes still I'm rowing, a crowd of stars taking flight. Feeling so rich in thought, my mind plays through its elegant fantasy, from craze the harness I've designed draws taught, becoming one with the fires of ecstasy. I am still living within a dream, yet one forged entirely from reality, winds swim with every woven seam, tomes of my soul balanced in duality. My heart does but sigh, having emerged from the canopy, gazing upon the setting sun so high, for this is how it feels at the heights of humanity.

I just want to dissolve, away from the calls of the world, I just want to lose myself, in the endless freedom of my soul.

All fragments of my naked selves, each a lost part of my identity, reborn with philosophies new, now unified into the being I have become. A mandala of transcended thought, patterns of detail wild and free, living beyond demons now extinct, in a timeless field of wonder.

We are as humans driven by the idea of freedom, of oppression in many a form, by what makes us different, some rebellious nature to this idea of normal. It is how we grow, from the edges of discovery inwards, from the strength of the weird, from that desire to be free.

Lying sunburnt in the garden, grass tickling my feet, a chapter here and there. Food or yoga, a smoke or a kiss, I feel myself slipping away. Until the stars come out, no care to the cold, dying for it not to end.

Falling for the jail cell, we become part of the prison.

Orion points the way, a journey beyond stars, what reason to stay, life is worth the scars.

Under the spell of journeys into experience pure, the daze of peace in being free, the charming stories of Vienna, the crisp clear air I breathe. Pain is the colour of adventure, all we give of ourselves to satisfy the cravings of our soul, to drop into the wild unknown, and live more than we lose.

Running like a hare, into progressive wilderness, into ages of envious autonomy. A meteor shower spreading wide, riding each one through flame, delighting in the slide.

High as a kite, that's how life should be, no harsh bright light, in the colourful sea.

Grey clouds dim on the once sorrowed day, a tinge of pink yet smouldering through, enriched with gold and drifting away, to castles of crimson for the rebellious few.

Deep night and deep dreams, the alarm cracks shut my mind, a haze of reality drifts back to me, my heart aching for a freedom that never comes.

Losing myself to the days of yesteryear, the richness of friends from there to here, the world of my identity I hold so dear, those that faded away my restless fear.

Instead of dreams I now have memories.

Smoking until I lose control, to battle my mind once again, a fierce emergence of belonging against a twisted sense of melancholy. The prestige of my mind holds strong, the crocodiles locked at my ankles drawn helpless in my stride, swimming else so peacefully. Waves smouldering beneath my vision, soul vibrating through levels of consciousness, jumping between discoveries in this colourless swamp. These times of eclipsing sanity, here we rise like spirits in the air, dancing between realms of our beautiful story.

My heart lies upon my chest, full to the brim with treasure, yet so big it has grown, I cannot breathe.

Crickets singing in my brain, getting high to numb the pain, roaring silent to rattle my chain, else bleeding into a trivial stain.