O’ how do I long for a place called Freedom. Where I can soar high and free, devoid of all cares and measures.
A place called Freedom, exists but in the innate sub-conscious state of the soul. Reaching it is but the highest of all understanding. A reach beyond mortal heights.
And it takes to ages to find that because you search for it outside. But nonetheless achievable by human standards.
It is but innocent ignorance that thinks freedom is found when sought.
Freedom is not found when sought, my friend. But found when yearned and longed for. When the desire of the heart for attainment of complete indifference overcomes the mundane desires.
But is it Freedom, when the thought and longing of Freedom encapsulates our being, and even after achieving it, the thought of sustaining it enslaves you? Such freedom I abhor.
I see freedom as a state of mind all men wants to be in. I am enslaved not because of freedom. Freedom is a feeling inside me. I am enslaved because of my inability to reach there. But once I reach there, my elated heart will find solace from this mad world of mortals.
Attainment of freedom is an illusion played by poets and visionaries alike, abused by political mercenaries quite a lot, but they understand it not.
Mundane freedom is one, which may be achieved by one’s provisions. But if it is the Eternal Freedom that we long for, then I am afraid, it comes with a price,
A price demanding our being,
A price called the solace of Death.
I beg to discord with due esteem. But my learning and knowledge says otherwise. I believe it can be attained long before death. It is just a state of the mind that we need to get attuned. It can be reached.
Pardon my insolence, but I am not convinced. And it is futile to hold this discourse for my inherent pessimism with humanity still disables me to look beyond my nose.
So long, my friend. May I live long to hear of your tale of Freedom, and how you have failed miserably or otherwise.
So long. Maybe one day
My gratitude to Vishal, a good friend of mine who has helped me come out with the piece, by indulging himself in this outplay of words.