I am not free
in the sense
that I am not me,
but you,
and everything
you choose or do,
in a hall of the
brain and bombarded
with pain,
even if you don't
see it, one feels
it every day,
as I toss and turn
over inside,
this is not me,
never...
but until you break,
and when you do...
everything is out to
catch you, even this
machine...
I am not me,
even once you decide,
to ride it out to
the end...
reinventing
and extracting
all outboard
or inboard devices,
from the motor mind,
don't be kind, for
a second time,
if your not - really!
unkindness is a desert
and a long long look
before it's new...
never in the moment,
until it doubles back
and your token gesture,
doesn't go a long way,
it must go all of it...
before everything turns
to powder!
now it's us,
see what it means?
step out, something bigger
looms,
unmistakable connection
- awaits....
this is it
and we do notice,
but yet we cannot
and will not...
Ah! let it try...
let it die...
nothing!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem