I haven't fallen off the lunar plane or retreated into the folds of the lotus flower of time... i am experiencing life from a new angle, from a different premise of light and it is both enlightening as it is interesting.... no complaints finally picked my thesis topic [yeats' poetry influenced by magical cults] cut my hair [unbelievable but i actually like it] and took a nap this afternoon in my bathtub [it's really the most comfortable thing ever].... somewhere between being informed that a close friend of our family passed away this afternoon and going through my shelves of books sorting and cleaning i realized that despite all my new found 'freedoms' of health, focus and work, i feel no sense of absolute freedom... and i cannot help but wonder if perhaps the definition of freedom has simply escaped me.
I've always thought of freedom as the ability to be the greatest version of yourself, without obstruction, tension or struggle... but there are myriads of subleties involved when attempting to form some defintion of self, and there is no remarkable 'clarity' within the crystalized product....

The brutal sunlight of the desert
glitters
a golden promise
of golden chains-
glimmering upon
the road to
redemption.
At the city gates
I have seen you prostrate yourself
worshipping
illusioned freedom...
post-it notes
maps upon your mind
of all that is to do
in the liberation
of
tomorrow.
Even as slaves
you are humble
before the tyrant
of petty things
you praise the ordinary
the bland
the tasteless
the pathetic
the rotten
although it slays you
whips your soul
and withholds
your consciousness.
the best of you
lack conviction
while the worst
do not see
past
the passionate intensity
of single
vision.
In the grove of the holy temple
in the shadow of the citadel
I have seen the freest
among
you
on the street corner
of indecision
selling your freedom
as the handcuff of legends
as the fatal wrinkle
of truth.