Freedom is four hundred and fifty square feet of moveable tin, wheeling down the highway, destination unknown. It is long walks through exotic forests, where focus lasts only as long as it takes to capture an image. It is the privilege of sleeping and waking according to whim, routine an estranged concept. It is the breeding ground for creativity – passion unleashed – and it is tainted by the hue of loneliness, the stark awareness that ties are strained, and those left behind feel abandoned.
Freedom’s highway calls –
hearts follow, passions flow, flee
guilt’s far-reaching pull.
(Written for DVerse’s Halibun Monday: Complexity of Freedom prompt.)