The Refuge in Glass
(Freedom, something to be venerated, is hardly ever given its due. The one who is trapped in a prison of superior comforts never tastes happiness. Instead he always dreams of his contentment that comes only by being relieved of captivity. There is no greater ecsatsy than the lure of freedom. With time though, the captive is forced to find happiness in his hated confinement. Yet, his heart relentlessly dreams of greener pastures of independence).
The rotund glass distorts my view,
Shocked eyes boxed in a demure face
Staring in awe as luxuries abound
In a curved glass cell, clean and chaste.
The pebbles are smoother, the sand softer
The air of life pumps around,
Yet lost, I watch that faint image
Of loneliness painted, of virtue trapped
In this prison of homely hues.
The mighty sea roars down the sill,
Upon which the bowl ominously sits
Reflecting bits of gold by dawn,
Drowning jadedly in latent dusk
Why I ponder oft in pain,
The rumbling waves croon a siren’s song?
When all I desire suffocates the space
Of rapt solace in this haven of clarity
In this stagnant pool of restraint.
I fantasize of the moment the bowl tills
Or breaks and tumbles down
To the chasm of warmth, to my own home
To the straining gush of wind and wave.
The only shatter, though, I hear echoed
Is the fragments of fantasy falling fast
To the depths of distress I’ve secreted afar
Within my heart that treacherously beats
In this lonely pool of fancies.
I resign to a fate of living too long
Of grudgingly striving to do without
The worries that haunt my thoughts
The dreams that taunt my soul
Of salvation never to be, of freedom never to feel.
I lodge myself in the chains of capture
Yet my mind never relents, never gives up
Hoping foolishly of happier tomorrows
In this pale imitation of my truer self.