Freedom Flows | Teen Ink

Freedom Flows

April 1, 2013
By Jillytea SILVER, Hopkinton, Massachusetts
Jillytea SILVER, Hopkinton, Massachusetts
6 articles 0 photos 0 comments

Favorite Quote:
Loyally follow that thumping sensation that sits in your chest, determinedly follow that feeling of your gut dropping to the floor; devote your whole life to creating that energy.


Free as the creatures that journey this Earth
through pure instinct as the turning dawn marks each season’s birth
as the wind blasts & succeeds the next three month’s weather in order of cycle
of either withering winters or splendid summers
that falls upon the crumbled land as the fickle air rolls and tumbles unfolding across the deep green, reflecting blue fluid sea
that billows & bends in nature’s own time
of whimsical waves that stir & pine
to be built up to a height so grand, only to come crashing back down
they fuss & fuss only to impatiently mistrust the journey
the journey they must endure over the wind slashed white caps that foam at the break, dissipating at no mistake
yet, the fierce waters that dip & dive without a promise
meet back at the shore,
draping the silky sand that blankets the coastline,
bringing the space between land & water into One
how the flow unknowingly directs the waves back to its home

Free as the flow that continuously grows
that guides this way step by step
as it is already set, will forever be set
for all beings to be
so simply, to just be! to be
what they were all meant
to be

there is nothing that can be given nor taken
from what has always been and what will always be
you are a free being, indeed
& only you can find it on your very own
to see what it really means to be free
to search for the missing light to fill the void
to envelop the answer, forever yours to hold

the flow of freedom & the way of being
that forever resides in the depths of your soul
which sits beneath the beat of your thumping heart
the flow constantly streams,
gushes all around inside the bodies of water
to reach the mind in seconds creating an expression to understand the feeling arising
your face is a book, for we all tell our own story
reminiscent of either a smile of warmth or a disgruntled shudder
that is never able to escape the fate that has been assigned
at true love’s first blossom

the emanation from our very existence; the heart that beats
the mind that thinks
as time ticks on & on interminably day after day
as it decides which feelings to pursue & which ones to withdraw away
for follow the way to the path of progression
where each day on & day off, more can be seen in clear, wider perspectives
as your soul starts to constructively stretch
from the feed that does germinate your seed
that is planted & nurtured within from first day’s birth

which food you choose to feed your flow
& what love that blesses your sensitive soul
will bounce you high or drag you low
to either accept the miracle of life that was born
or to deny the days you ever felt the warmth
choose the food
that your brain can chew
or forever forget the day you happened to
ignore the cries that claimed your name
as you sat in the dusty corner lamenting
to sulk in the fever that has infested this melted Earth
bombarding & depleting nation after nation, curse after curse

your eyes gush of salt water tears
that endlessly drip down as the natural attraction of gravity recedes
the sclera bursts bloodshot red
lifting watch maker hands to smudge the streams of soaking clear tears
a feeling to hinder this mood you presume
begging to flee in desperate cries for simple harmony
but the unfortunate feeling that undyingly lingers
& hangs upon your heavy heart
never accepts the guidance or love
that does offer an open door for your depart
to pass this detrimental phase that pangs your entire sight

as the days slither past, blindly gliding to & fro
hours upon hours, losing the grip, forgetting any notion of power,
you miss the light that beams downwards from the heavens
only to touch upon the top of your crown
that will bring you strength from your beings source
to lift your shoulders & rid the baggage
that has taken a hold of your weak empty bones
that you feebly surrendered at the start of the war
“There was no chance in a survival.” the mantra repeated
you never believed you’d make it alive
for the feverish Earth has fevered your mind
manipulated the formation that cause cells to collide
ever since stood in the way of the ringing pain
that is only trying to resurface & heal you from day to day

wipe those tears from the crevices of your eyes
for no tears of depression will do any good as we aim to rise high
through time you can tell that change will change
& change will change again, only to change again & again
for time is a funny thing that is not tangible
nor submissive,
a silly concept to leave you feeling rushed
as all you wish for is more & more
to explore the lands that you have never known,
but you are forced to follow, to be herded like cattle
the unstoppable quality that often causes great struggle
as time is nothing; repetitive & infinite, hardly helping
it speeds up faster as the Earth ascends farther
the ascension racing to burn this lethal fever out from the planet
& more importantly out from the fresh water that nurtures this land

embrace the light, it is the only guidance to bring help
follow the thoughts that transcend from beginning to end
relying on the history of our roots & all we are capable to demand
we need an answer, a start to repair this Earthly rubble
something to swallow the virus
& another something to squander the parasites
that lurk the streets at dusk without any vision in immediate sight
& they continue to relinquish what they believe to be in their control
yet, there is nothing that can be given nor taken
from what has always been and what will always be
in a land so glorious and old

transformation takes the stage & sets the steps
that are meant to proceed the way to be who you were always meant to be
but that’s only if you can build yourself up through struggle & strength
to truly believe
that all beings are born to be free


The author's comments:
Will Thomas told me writing is a lot like fishing, & oh, how right he was..

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