We long for freedom, But we cling To our precious stories, Our defensive strategies. We wrestle with letting go Of all that defines us— Old habits and well-worn ruts, Carved by years of conditioning. And still, we hold on, Afraid of who we’ll become If we yield them And fall. We long for freedom, Yet we cannot release What we’ve deemed precious— The old coat, Heavy with time, Yet sheltering us from the unknown. “I don’t know how to let go!” We cry, trying to figure it out. We yearn to understand, To remain in control. We want our cake, And freedom too. And so we swing, back and forth: Freedom, prison. Lightness, heaviness. Suffering, peace. The ping-pong game— Awake one moment, Bound the next. Until, at last, we tire. Fed up with the swinging, Exhausted by the endless dance. Ideas of freedom fade, Dreams dissolve, And in their place, Something deeper awakens. A ripening. A softening. An acceptance. Ah!
Beautifully said, Kavi ❤️