Freedom to Be

This thing that beckons me

it calls me. 

I dream, 

and i see those colors,

bright, beutiful.

All in this magnificent world. 

And they swirl together, 


one from the same prism.

I stare in awe through the lenses of my third and fourth eye

and as i stare I know that the land of shadows cannot reach me here.

It is as if God,

brush in hand,

painted with fine strokes along the canvas of our universe.

This art,

whether photos or dance.


the sweet elegance of emotion.

All in a utopious world,

Love, and Laughter, and Morality.

Without this freedom to be 

all meaning in life is lost. 


This poem is about: 
Our world


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