Freedom is a weapon. It is a weapon of the golden bird. Birds are beautiful species of flight. They have no boundaries to travel, no barriers to cross. The distances they cover are limitless. But, what if birds stop flying? What if they are caught, caged or chained? What if the soft blue sky becomes devoid of these flying little angels?
Here is the initial attempt (short version) of my poem, ‘Freedom’:
”When I saw a bird in a cage,
Which was similar to a torn page;
“Had she done some fault” I asked
That her freedom had come to a halt.
It could not fly over the field of grains
Instead it sang a song of strain.
Oh! Why I couldn’t feel its sadness
Is it because I live in this world of madness?
I must be dug into the ground,
For I didn’t let it dive in the vale profound.
But now I will free it without time spent
Even if I have to cross the Arabian Sands.
She just flew like a soul escaping from the body’s cage
And I felt attached to the torn page.”
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