How Long Should I Wait to Wonder

Strong men shackled and enchained,
Clouded by Circumstances lagged with pleasing,
To how long will the routine be the same?
None knows when’s Independence,
But one’s the power to embrace it anytime.

How shadowed are the days of morons,
Days and Nights seem identical to them,
Knowing less of the mazed roads in life,
Stuck eagerly to be home,
Home through the less walked by road.
How then should they distinguish times?
It’s by agency of the LIBERATOR.

A stanza with grateful filled words,
We barely knew of the liberator,
What look do they Bear?
I could dream of them,
And a dream bred Reality,
No aliens could Liberate
But Fellow-Bastards,
to whom these words can be read,
With whom the mazes turn a RoadHome,
And surely emancipating each soul on the wayHome,
endowed with never ungenerous heart,
Radiating both abundance and exuberance,
Editor’s pen flickers while scrawling,
“Thank you For Being You”
and Unto you I write, The Liberator.