A personal reflection 

Over the years of my life, through the different lifetimes that I have lived, freedom to me has been an ever changing obscurity, that as at times been elusive in its presence, and yet it’s absence un-noted or a silent drowning. Freedom to me has been a concept with soft edges that blur into the rigidity of the landscape. A dance of butterflies whose wings graze unknowingly against the barriers of the wind that holds them, just so, in place.

And yet, freedom is my conscience, that I feel in degrees of just and purely knowing.

A question I hold in silence and in clouds, in the whirring of my heart beat. Freedom is a concept, a construct, an essence that stills me into calm and exhorts me into action.

It has been an action, a promise, a punishment, a wish. It can be a dream or a torture, and sometimes I know not which.

It has survived at the edges of my existence, ethereal, a glitter covered with the darkness of coal in my soul. Hiding its shadow. And when I’m free, when freedom is free, the lightness and hope of the drifting sea of promise, takes me so gently, and yet so firmly I do not hesitate to go.

This has been the freedom of my lives. A right and a desire. An essence. My soul.