escaping the unfree

we so rarely tell the truth about how we feel. we drown ourselves in the distractions of the world, grin and dance as though no one is dying from war or disease or starvation or oppression or enslavement. as though if we live and die in peace, we will find peace. we have learned to enslave ourselves, numbing our sensibilities so we can play as though nothing is happening in the world. as though we are immune to the soul/spirit destroying culture.

we are all enslaved to a degree, even as we grin and dance and ebb to the reality of existence, leading us to a destiny we cannot confirm. yet we hope. we have faith. we carry these in our satchel, gripped tight to our bosom so they can keep our heart beating. we need them to stay alive, whatever that means these days.

i will not lie to my soul, telling it everything is alright simply because i’m safe. many slaves were “safe”, yet still slaves, living unfree on a planet built for freedom. i am trapped in an existence that is neither free nor comforting. yet, we allow it to be. we allow others to control our destiny, our way of life, our idea of freedom and peace.

i am tired of living unfree. i am tired of lying to my soul.

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my roots

I have found the voice I had lost. But it doesn’t want me. It wants freedom from the madness that is existence. It wants to remember what it was like to be human, half a million years ago when Earth was an ancient land with spiritual beings in unclothed bodies. This is no longer my home, the place I want to set down roots. My roots grow from clouds, from places where we go when the living is done.

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