I’m tired of the chains
The binding rings I’ve forged my self
I’m tired of commitments
Tethering vines I once nourished
I’m ready for my freedom
Never more those thoughts, that past, my demented trap
I’m ready for the wind
A wind of my own evocation
A brisk breeze or terrible tempest
Shifting, pulsing, spiraling currents
An unpredictable direction for my future flight
Where I go and who I’m with
Matters not at all this moment
What matters most is freedoms call
A pulling yearning I must follow
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