Hypnotized by young freedom,
I chased bedazzling baits of my choice
until pain came crashing through my doors.
Thank you very much, freedom.
And I ate choice foods with delight
until my older arteries became clogged
with a near calamity of consequences.
Freedom, do you need to be fatal?
Computer-enabled, I freely flew commodity
futures like a test pilot, with precision eyes
trained on my instruments—then crashed.
Hello, is anyone there?
Freedom, you truly stink.
Can I at least be free not to be free?
"Serve," says no voice.
Serve? Why serve?
"It works."
Serve without pay?
"With or without pay—but with energy."
No more freedom, then?
"Remembering your former agony
while serving where the need is,
you gain a grounded freedom."
From whom do I hear this?
"From the call without a voice."
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