Taste of flat beer,
Surprisingly, brings back
distant memories of freedom Days,
Free Days and
Easy ways—
Almost always, Blasé.
When one needn’t
to do much, but to Observe and Sway,
and sometimes crave—
barely Awake,
Still sleeping…
Oh!
this was Our
best state—
Rarely aspiring to don
on the great Atlas,
Never fearing
the coming
of a crucial Date.
While in transit, do most of us get lost in stagnation,
Stopping at red lights that in no way, shape, or form
Apply to our causes?
And for those who flutter onward—
Is it Conviction, Sense of Direction, or simply
Unmeditated, gutsy bravery that might
Soon fall empty?
Regardless, the majority of us
Need, in body and spirit,
Those who fearlessly
Venture past the main stops,
Not accepting what was Fated,
Or planned by others’ hands.
“If you don’t confirm in Britain, it’s always a struggle, but I’m not going to change the way I am…I just don’t lick asses, basically. I just do it the way I wanna do it.”
—Mark Powell.
You are free before the daylight sun,
And free before the nighttime stars;
You are even free
When you close your eyes
To all there is—
But you are a slave,
You are a slave to the one you love,
Because you love him,
And he loves you back.
Particular Moments 