Where is freedom for this soul that seems to be reaching out ?
Amongst white chipped mountain tops inhabited by gruff goats, Wind born eagles soar with eyes sweeping lofty nests and prey At breath gasping heights where no competitor comes to play.
Where is freedom for this soul that seems to be reaching out ?
Sun scorched grunting space shuttles hurtle through earth's atmosphere.
Their destination, flung beyond earth's thinning nebulae, Is endless dark planets hidden behind yesterday's stars.
Where is freedom for this soul that seems to be reaching out ?
Wisemen wander where no eagle talons or space ships land.
Sadhus, yearning to find spacial dimensionless places, Looking all around, are sincere seekers missing the sought.
Wisemen know that there is no place to go or see or leave.
' I am ' freedom from which this soul seems to be reaching out.
