Tell Me What it is to Be Free?

Tell me what it is to be free
How can you appreciate your freedom
Without accepting that your life is constituted by something;
Known or unknown,
And that this is impervious to the hand of man?

Tell me what it is to be free?
As you sit close eyed within your white walls
Wearing only your eyes you keep in a box
By your bedside.
Your reverie only ever preached to you
By men in black suites with green eyes
And stone hands.
Have you lost all but your illusive hope
And fabricated avowal?
I pity your obtuse soul and lack there of.

Tell me what it is to be free?
Your words are laced with denial.
Fire is burning from my finger tips
While I listen to your false dreams.
No one is free!
No one is free from a obstinate seize
That forms a life.

Tell me what it is to be free?
You walk with such direction and purpose
Towards a reflection,
Cast from the houses on the hill.
Wash your linens and cloth your children
For you need not worry.
A life of freedom is far from your grasp.
I am unable to deny my part in a society of fear
But I do not condone it.
I soon will be ready.
And when you dream of walking a red desert
With your arrow and bow,
Reciting the words from your book of bridges,
Then you may tell me what it is to be free.