taste of freedom
the mind can be our prison,
our senses keep us locked away
believing that what the walls tell us,
in all it monumental grayness,
this is all there is to see,
or hope for,
a chill perceived in its pontificating.
trapped in cycles of pain
thinking there is no escape,
floundering in sorrow and shame
failing to see the way out.
tapes run on automatic
dragged around for another go,
lives wind down,
never knowing the freedom within reach.
knowing that life is but a swiftly passing dream,
yet running from this truth,
sinking further into the trap
until the time comes when the call goes out.
healing soothes the restless mind
allowing grace and thought to once more come,
understanding that before was a kind of insanity
after the taste of freedom has come
the mind can be our prison,
our senses keep us locked away
believing that what the walls tell us,
in all it monumental grayness,
this is all there is to see,
or hope for,
a chill perceived in its pontificating.
trapped in cycles of pain
thinking there is no escape,
floundering in sorrow and shame
failing to see the way out.
tapes run on automatic
dragged around for another go,
lives wind down,
never knowing the freedom within reach.
knowing that life is but a swiftly passing dream,
yet running from this truth,
sinking further into the trap
until the time comes when the call goes out.
healing soothes the restless mind
allowing grace and thought to once more come,
understanding that before was a kind of insanity
after the taste of freedom has come
No comments:
Post a Comment