The Unrequited Land
Looking through the window,
Up above and floating into the sky,
I see many little pieces of land,
Each owned by some fella,
And each carrying his brand.
But no one owns the pieces,
On the rocky hills,
No one makes that torrid effort,
As the contours of these beautiful hills,
Are beyond our reach.
Like the sky above the earth,
Which is vast and detached,
And can’t be measured,
Or marked with a man’s decision.
We were all born free,
To roam around wherever,
Before came the rules,
Of what could one call his own.
And soon came the time,
Where a human owns another.
Who are you, to say where I can tread?
Who are you, to stop me from breathing?
Into that sky beyond your reach.
Soon you will pass and bury,
Into to same soil held so dear,
Leaving behind a trail of your deeds,
But I am alive and I can make a giant stride,
Into the ridges and trenches of your land,
And I shall make a home,
Or castles as I may please.