Freedom
Location
Freedom is
- to each his own -
to some the wings to fly from home
to soar the sky
in search of the rumored happiness freedom is.
The choice he has
to spread his wings
and from his throat, the song he sings
- and on whomever it may fall -
the melody that is his.
Heartened so
in rushing wind,
still scaling sky as dark descends -
this freedom thus bestowed upon
leads very much astray.
Panicked now,
for beaten path
to home has suffered freedom's wrath.
Night has fallen,
as has he who cannot find his way.
No choice now left
but folded wings,
treading softly as he sings
a song of sorrow, a blind search
for an old forsaken home.
Freedom is
- to each his own -
unearthing roots that long have grown.
Know then the path grows harder back,
for freedom is alone.
Yet still to each his own.