Forming the clay
Like life itself it is smooth
Flexible, dynamic
Built from earlier life
And minerals
Creating and destroying
Collapsing, building
Whatever we make
Out of it
Can we ever be free
From matter and nature?
Forming
Growing Up
Chaos and semi total attention
Never peace just a lot of desires
Demands, crying and screaming
That is what is like to grow up
When we teach them that
Behavior
Reflecting the parents narcissistic nature
Creating that beautiful wheel of Karma
Spinning round and round
In eternity until the almighty had
Enough and destroys it all
Eventually
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The Freedom Trap
Freedom is a great illusion
The worst form of dream
The one that exist
But will never reach us
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The End
The final accord
An Ultimate solution to avoid
Conflict abstaining from most of the
Things that are important
Compromising my life away
Long gone memory of another life
When freedom were more than
A fantasy, a chimera in the desert
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Being Free
Things are getting worse and worse
But here I am in the middle of it
It demands my whole being
I am looked in darkness
Dwelling among all the things
That has to be done and learned
I am sorry for this
But happy in the same time
This is me being free
In my own created prison
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The Words
I have no hope and no fear
Just a feeling of being free
Free like Kazantzakis
Reading the writings on the dirty wall
Long time ago in Heraklion, Crete
A game of words
Leading to this conclusion
Still so tempting for
The tired mind
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The Flight of the Swallow
Freedom is a curious thing
Hard to define
Seeking its root
In a mixture of feeling and reason
Time passes quickly
Technology and the many wars
Reduces what it could be or enhance it
Laws and our perceptions
Changes but maybe it is
The ability of our own capacity
When it is working
That is part of
A gigantic conundrum
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Opinions and Speaking Your Mind
Standing up and saying ones mind
Is not an easy thing to do
Not meaningful
For future friendships
But what is the use of friendship
If you cannot express
Ones mind openly
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Freedom
Can I ever be free?
Being trapped
In my own mess
For such a long
Time
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On Freedom
Freedom comes at a price
Always at a prize
It is sometimes
Hard to distinguish
From slavery
Schibolet 