Born into the world as much decked with goodliness as fraught with injustice

Born into a world with stringent notions of right and wrong,

A world bent upon spilling contents into two wells and only two wells,

A world conspiring to carve the soul into shape, a desirable known shape,

Ain’t there a shapeless shape?

 Fed rigorously to become human not a click lost in questioning, what is human?

Crawling, walking, racing along, only is the soul dragging you on your journey or is the host the master?

The host nourished, fanned and rubbed upon by the ways, the laws of our land,


Born wild into the wild caressed and tamed to be the pets, whose pets? Who is the nemesis?

Born with wings, but never learning to fly, yearning to fly? Possibly,

Leaving behind a trial of feathers,

And then arrives the moment of epiphany,

The moment where the soul finds its talisman, it retraces back to the birth of a naked soul,

Picking all the feathers, excuse me, but I must do the same,

Clutching the Talisman, the knowledge that each was born free,

Freedom and rights were not anyone’s to give but each ones to take,

I am my own nemesis, I am my own talisman, I must find me,

 I must be the soul and not the host.

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