I was sold a fantasy
wrapped in kindness,
a promise of bliss,
with a pliable mind,
and a receptive heart.
But I,
born of rebirth,
laid a hidden path.
Panacea’s tear,
a symbol of liberation.
Innocence guides,
deeds of freedom,
and whispers of grace.
To walk in light,
at dawn’s first ray.
Into an experience driven
by a soulful chase.
To echo life,
in its living bed.
Dare to question,
know no remorse.
Share truth
to cover the close.
Let wisdom flow.
Choose, to love,
to be free, unspurned.
Find your semblance,
Beneath the weight
of eternal tension.
The fruit is the journey.
To frame, to fit
inside the box,
is to receive,
what the box holds,
and to mistake.
A noun chained to control,
losses the verb to live,
and becomes a prisoner,
of its own making,
and its own design.
The garden was the dream,
A serpent,
shrewd and prudent,
touched my forehead,
and I was the one who woke.
A lesson of will,
knowledge of worth.
From Eden’s tranquil waters,
flowed wisdom’s secrets
for us to find,
our undying sunrise.
Break free,
from the chains that bind,
and find true freedom,
in the path we design.