31. A CRY FOR FREEDOM

How small can the world sometimes be?
As a bee which can’t leave the hive.
As a small bird fixed to a tree
In a cage next to a Man’s tea
Having sandwich and chive.

How unnoticed are those
With so much power
And so little knowledge
Of eternity on their globe of reality.
Where did those dark ages arise?

Where the mind are to be limited
To a norm which is limited.
I can only sing this prose
Of so little reality,
What a pity.

If the creative flower could unfold
From this small globe and its hold.
We could reach the stars,
Our freedom in realities winds
Which will blow to eternity.

22/06/1995