Hard Labour, years;
Spent doing time in my mind.
Work mate, cell mate;
A companion of kind, a disease and malady
With my company spent.
No self-will or physical strength combined
Will bend those bars holding me behind.
Trapped here in my cell,
With the devil as a room-mate.
Through, thought after thought,
I sought to be free.
To be rid from this; this demonic malady.
One night, in I glimmer of light,
It came. The new cell mate.
Strange I heard no lock turn,
Nor cell door swing.
“Take my hand” it said “but first fill it,
With all your will and self-pity. Then I
Will guide you to the golden city, a place
Of un-dreamt dreams.
Come, discover Its wonders.
” Pressing my hand to it, I felt the weight
Of my burdens lift.
There before me the cell unlocked,
As if never there, I realised the cell
Was my own. Self-built,
With no lock and key to set me free.
We parted ways thereon.
Left it did, just one sentence,
To dwell upon.
“Your freedom is no gift or right,"
All I ask of thee, to let all know in need,
That when they seek
True and with heart. I will
Come, and the cycle of freedom
Will carry on.
Those passing words stay with me.
That’s why today; I pass the message to thee.