Tale Of Freedom Poem by Bhanu Padmo

Mourning own ashes,
Sorrowing over freedom,
Long-awaited and wholly missed,
The shooting star did seek
Redemption of existence;
To redeem the tale of freedom,
Much remembered, long-awaited.

To the fallen star spoke thus
The configured multitude,
The fixed stars of high heavens;
Reeking of self-pity.
The stars spoke thus:
O Shooting star, burnt and bygone,
Star-dust you quit,
Oblivious of bonded freedom.
Boundless freedom you chose,
A fallacy though at length to be.

To the fallen star spoke thus
The configured multitude,
The fixed stars of high heavens:
O Shooting star, burnt and bygone,
Wide wilderness you chose,
Only to stagger,
Unaware of the glory of a footway;
Destination it fetches,
Foreshadowing it all along;
Freedom it holds,
As bonded to goal.
But boundless freedom you chose,
A fallacy though at length to be.

To the fallen star spoke thus
The configured multitude,
The fixed stars of high heavens:
O Shooting star, burnt and bygone,
In star-dust you did see not,
A composition often illegible,
An inclusive poetry,
Not without you.

So, exclusive freedom you chose,
A fallacy though at length to be;
When life was to abound
In freedom inclusive,
Bonded and destined,
Bonded to configuration prospective,
Destined to creation unforeseen.