There is a choice of freedom
To be taken or not.
As freedom exists and will also exists
But freedom of will does not exists.
Because a will that aims at it's
Own freedom aims at the unknown.
Choice is what we have....
But if you choose to select
You will choose what is
Already laid out...time after time.
Suffocating routine life that closes in
During nightfall....and the pleasant tomorrow
Morning and the travelling of the light all day long.
The choice remains the same
To be taken or not remains undecided.
But in some queer way
Choice not taken is choice made...
And that is what makes the best of the day
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem