Air Poem by ... ...

I envy in a way, that may just be,
Somewhat ridiculous, in it's banality,
A thing so common, yet so harsh to me,
It is the air, which causes me such jealousy.
Why, you might ask, it is absurd in it's simplicity,
What is it of this thing, that causes anxiety,
What can air have, as such a spiteful property,
To make one as blessed as yourself,
Curse so despairingly?
Do not judge, I pray, as I answer honestly,
I am not yet an old fool, my wits have not left me,
Listen to these words, do not discard them for folly,
And you may find, somewhat metaphorically,
A small piece of wisdom, discarded within irony.
Air is so fine, so fleeting, so free,
It looks down it's nose, blowing mercilessly,
It adopts any form, it expands miraculously,
It suffers all blows, and returns them equally,
It lends life to it's slaves, promises harmony,
Yet in storms it does rage, whipping them terribly,
Its will knows no boundary, its might is infinity,
It kisses the sky, and lays with the roses beneath me,
It caresses all, it journeys so speedily,
Its frankness is quaint, it howls when necessary,
Its cold touch batters heartlessly,
Yet brings warmth and peace so bountifully,
Its power topples all indiscriminately,
Yet its tender whispers instill tranquility,
Lulling the soul into a sense of security,
While stealing away life, deceiving so sweetly,
Yet is loved by all, is worshiped as deity.
So now my friends, who listened so carefully,
Is it better to have liberty, then adhere to an entity?
Is it better to be quiet, then express oneself absolutely?
To be bound by no laws, to see all in clarity,
Or to hold onto life, to lie in our misery,
So if you may now, I beg, enlighten me dearly,
With the answer I seek, always so desperately,
Do not hold back, respond truthfully;
Who is better off, the air, or maybe me?