Freedom

I am stuck here. Right at the centre of the rut. And there is no escape. When I am in my room, the walls close in on me. When I am outside, the shackles of the mind hold me dear to them. The rays do seep in once in a while, the sparks of the rain do drench me and do provide the succour but it never satiates. It leaves a taste in the mouth which asks for more.

Sometimes the notes of the octave in their myriad combinations is liberating and more often than not the visual graphics creates a tune never heard before nor felt and those are the only times when freedom exercises itself. The freedom of the soul - if there be one.

And I want to break free.

Would a prisoner serving a life sentence cherish his freedom or be afraid ? To face a world he has no idea of - where everything he knew, everything he stood for, everything which caused his existence no longer exists. The punishment lies in the freedom and not in the sentence. Yet it is the sentence we complain about.

The concept of freedom of being the chief objective of humans is a polished myth. Love is the greatest constraining factor. It limits you in ways unfathomable. So much so, that we do not even recognize it. Yet, all craves for it. And you want freedom ?

Maybe, freedom from love.