I Stand free in a passionate rain,

And a fire that burns inside of me….

In the streets of the free country,

Singing songs of freedom….

And yet, Freedom still beckons,

Freedom …. that elusive dream …

Trickles away from the greedy hand….

Freedom, that little irony,

Lost in your quest to find it,

Like the desert sand.

And maybe lost again when you find it….

For he who knows no bondage,

knows as little of freedom…

And to him, what does freedom mean,

Beyond an often misused word, misunderstood ?? ….

And maybe, freedom is a colourful butterfly,

She flies bright and beautiful…

But you catch her and she’s gone….

And the chase goes on and on ….

Ah this freedom, you have to lose it to find it,

And when you have it you dont understand it…

And yet, cursed to chase the butterfly,

I chase everyday what I already have,

I find it & lose it & find it again

Thinking Infinity


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