Breaking Free

Originally Posted on Medium

A dream hung on like raindrops on power cables overhead

A whole gleamy world in itself, a fairytale world

Full of promises and enforced perfection, off a story book

Walking on the tightrope of time,

I emerged from the drop unscathed in the heart

Or did the drop disappear altogether?

I do not know. I do not remember.

May be I was a fool that summoned the untrue

Long after it was gone, refusing to believe

Stubborn to recreate, but the illusion

Evanesced in a second, waking up with a jolt

Feeling unreal of the self that was

though changed and cold by it

Filled with a steely resolve

Never to go back

My clothes are still wet

Wet from moist emotions that perturb no more!

Flicking them off me like they don’t matter!

But how can I be so unfeeling

Reading parchments from bygone times

In disbelief, cringing over the submission of spirit

The nauseating thoroughness of servitude

The disgusting willingness to subjugation

In the name of a promise in far,

how did the dream disappear?

How did I cure?

Willing for the wings to be cut, willing on my own,

Time has dried my clothes, my hair

And the sun shines upon me today, beaming

I have survived, traces evaporated

Oh how much I love the free air

Oh yes, I can waltz now, light without care!

Laughing amidst the wind against my face

The unruly hair flapping in tides of freedom

Like a flag of liberty floating in the skies!

Soaring, soaring unhinged like a kite, broken free!

But will I ever willfully like to be chained?

Will I ever be happy playing just the sidekick?

Taking on a name, dancing to the tunes

Tamed, in shackles and hunted

But smiling all the way to hide the shrunken essence within

If footsteps can fade, if thoughts can change, if worlds can dissolve in a moment

Small and weak on my own, perhaps

What if the soul is frail after all?

What if it is a hot air balloon that’d pop amidst an unremarkable storm?

What if I get bored of freedom!

Find myself shrunk down to insecurities

Like huge holes in a puffed up armour

What if the spirit within is frail, and old and tired and scared after all?

What if the familiar rocks of today shred away

Tired of waiting or perhaps time has accumulated a wall

Brick by brick, perhaps.

Is it worth to bow the head?

Or are we complete on our own?

If I tread from shore to shore

Am I meant to walk alone after all?