Freedom-tangible-
Near enough to taste.
Looming, closer,
But without haste...
Inch by inch
It crawls ever so close,
I reach out for it
Lest it vanish as a ghost.
Nearer I come to it
Grasping it in my hand.
Holding it and doing
Everything it will demand.
Freedom in its finality.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem