Sea

Between the wish for changelessnes and thrill
We seldom will be satisfied for long
Neither is controlled by human will
As into stormy life, we all are flung

Self-deception shields us from our doubts
We choose to pre-select what we will see.
Pretend to know what our life’s all about
As in boats, we ride a stormy sea.

Then later we choose danger for its spice
And with daring climb the mountain with no ropes
We resist the offer of advice
Till, with broken bones, we quaintly mope.

Reality’s too little or too much
So, on our path, our hearts will often lurch.

Imprisoned spirits

How like a prison   is my cubicle;

A prison,a trap, a cell,a place of fear.

For humans,this  is truth indubitable;

We need to roam ,to see,to smell,to hear.

 

Yet in the bureaucrat realm , we must observe,

The rules laid down by  generations gone.

And from their ancient code we cannot swerve.

Even if by rules we are undone.

 

Did Euclid discover how grave was a bath?

Did Moses fear  to see the burning bush?

Did Einstein follow someone’s else’s path?

Did Socrates  give voice to utter trash?

 

Imprisoned spirits are to revolution called.

Lest by Ariel they should be mauled.