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The Only Freedom

When I feel trapped because I am and can be
only just here where I am (whether out under
the stars or in a small cell), it is my NOT being here
that traps me, all my connections to whence I’ve fled,
all the places shrouded in old losses, brittle ancient
pain. Long shadows of these millions of locations
stretch to touch me and wherever I think I am,
when I’m actually dispersed, strewn like the droplets
of a thick fog over past times and spaces, pulled
millions of ways at once, held down, like Gulliver,
by  too many spider-threads (ghost threads) I see
only in the darkening-over of now, which, all threads
cut, being only now, is, even if cell or cave, a total
freedom, the only freedom there is.

Last updated: December 11, 2013