Freedom

Courtesy: web source

The busy feet in a jerky gait,

Raw nerves now propel and now stultify…

Whatever for livelihood or for tomorrow

The movement is put into such run,

A collateral function of the system.

As the day time drags on till 9.pm,

As the fleecy feathery petals of dandelions,

In their eddying magical shadowy levitation,

Glide before eyes, rest on eyebrow or shoulder

Or sneak inside to skim over crisp papers on the table
(Pale frost like yet fluffily air-riding moonscape ambience),
The shadowy figure in scarecrow silhouette,

Bloated yet heavy, fights against the gravity—

The complete freedom, as in its fancy,

Is to be free off the ground of flurries.

Off the ground of flurries,

Off the ground of flurries

That dwarf even oceanic mountainous tides.

Off the ground of flurries

That slit it like a thunderbolt tearing a fat trunked tree into two.

Off the ground of flurries

Learning, enlightening yet numbing now.