Venture out,
Step away,
Look at where you have been,


Keys to Freedom


The Dog,
Free of his masters leash,
Free, and running.

The Man,
Never ceasing, to attempt the quelling,
Of this wild way be gone thing,

Conformity,
Status quo,
Watchwords of a machine,

keys, wound up,
In the backs,
Of all the would be robots,

Chasing profound worldly,
Nothingness,

Tis sad that all leashes cannot be broken,
That we all cannot run and be free as the dog,
As the horse, as the lion, as the bird.

Tis a choice however,
That we choose to be staked out,
To be incarcerated within our own realms,

Such is the device where unhappiness and boredom breeds,
Where we languish and suffer from self inflicted bindings,
feeling helpless and un-loved,

To think, to know,
To be glad of the gifts bestowed upon us,
To understand that there is more out there,
Than what you can see at the end of your chain,

That over the next hill, in the distant valley,
Lay your keys to freedom,

Venture out,
Step away,
Look at where you have been,

Find the keys to unlock the chains,
let your sun rise again.




Poetry by W. Burkholder
Read 389 times
Written on 2007-03-02 at 21:56

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betsy Firefly
This was an encouraging read - the secret is wanting to find those keys by searching for them in the right place.

I believe you would have that the keys '...lie...' instead of lay in the thrid last stanza.

Well penned.
2007-03-02