Flight of Freedom, Poetry by Scott Davis

Genre: Rhyme, Society, Inspiration

Flight of Freedom
by Scott Davis

to the world,
the place is yours to enjoy,
every toy you play with,
is but a taste of the kisses,
that you will explore,
as you discover yourself.
Keep in the foreground,
of the thoughts that,
will pass through all your days,
(the labor,
ethics of exertion,
and polite manner,
in which you must speak,)
will lead you to,
the mountainous peak,
it’s all about the effort,
the long days of sweat and botheration,
will indeed pave the way,
to paradise more divine than ever you shall find,
believe the world,
and its ploy-filled ways,
trust no one,
surrounded by the greedy,
(those with little else to do,
but bleed you dry)

Sail this ship,
up the stream,
and you will see,
what every man and woman have seen before you,
the course is rough,
ever worthwhile!

The river was wide,
tossing and spitting
such a wild ride,
fear ran through me,
up and down my spine,

after so many years,
and too many tears,
trying to,
stay afloat,
keep myself from drowning.

Smiling faces drifted by
seeming to,
at my fate,
as I tried
so hard to,
keep from submerging,
and losing,
what remained…
…of my sanity!

Then the storm,
raging winds,
whispering words,
could I hear not,
…going under…

Watching minutes turn,
into days,
into months,
into years,
burning my heart with desire for,
dry land I could,
rest upon!

So I battled,
my mind growing
dead of,
the hindsight,
I had lost hold,
and in my dying phase,
pondering all the rage,

I felt as a child,
when those older,
would tell me,
the only way to be free,
of tyranny,
is through labor,
stemming the tide,
full of pride,
I attempted a smile,
as considered I,
the words that were grafted on my soul,
by those well-meaning,
(but feeble-minded)
servants of the laws maintained,
for so many millennia,
words that spoke of life,
and the worship of the almighty bands of gold and silver,
they paid homage to with the very fabric of their being.

They lied to me,
(were told untruths by many themselves)
rather than question the wisdom they were given,
followed with every but of their might,
expressed joy,
and adulation,
for themselves for,
they were playing a game,
and winning every time,
so they believed the right,
to consume more wine,
forget their negativity,
and instead hide away in a pool of blood,
sweat and tears,
shed by those younger,
(who swore that when the day dawned,
perdition they would themselves rein,
and send those elder hackers,
to suffer).

They too slaved away,
after day,
after night!

Worry and fear becoming,
the most noble way of life,
skill and long training,
substituting for light,
to be the master,
of this endless night,
(this madness these people called real living)
the only thing keeping them from falling into the river wide,
and embracing the fate that awaits them.

I watched the battle rage,
saddened by the turning pages,
feeling sorry now my rage,
could do nothing to,
alter the course!

the speeches of a battle long since won,
as being the supreme,
the final proclamation of the gods!

Tears rolling down my haggard face,
as I tried to reclaim myself,
my ideas,
the very nature into which born was I,
and my sobbing face,
did a thing not to aid my survival,
by anguish I was coerced.

So I looked upward at the sky,
for refuge,
of any sort or type,
so that I could,
abandon the raft,

and live once again,
upon dry land.

From two steps over,
toward the insanity that gripped me,
a melodic whispering tune,
heard I then,
and facing my boat which was becoming overflowed with the distaste,
of my fatigue,
I yearned to have a touch from someone,
to love.

An angel,
then was there,
from the misty spray,
the feeble boy that was myself.

She reached out to me,
and I breathed again,
a sigh with relief,
into her wings I,
went with the hopeful glimmer of an ancient fool,
(who knew his time playing this hateful game
soon will be at its end)
smiled did I,
as meekly asking,
(though the doubts were strong indeed)
if justice was existent,
in the deluge to come,
or if it were just a figment,
(a small olive branch which I could extend)
of my childish wildest fantasies,
that no one would ever know.

Her eyes grew then,
with the kindest of compassion,
as she lifted my (broken and badly torn),
body upward to the top,
of the mountain,

spake she this to me,
“A peek,
at all those things you have been told to admire,
now is in order,
relax, my friend,
have the knowledge,
that the only way to feel safe,
is through having faith,
in the wisdom,
from whence you came!”

So I closed my eyes then,
started to feel,
the wind at my feet,
the breezes blowing me upward,
together we glided to the top of the mountain.

ran wild for me then,
as I thought I knew,
what was atop that peak!

there was to be,
a heavenly sight,
where sweet milk and wines flowed into the mouths of those,
who had been telling me,
(my entire life)
how grandly picturesque,
the mountaintop would be.

With some reluctance,
(sadness coming over the angel’s countenance, and the complexity of one who knew better)
she blessed me,
and whispered an unheard name to my alerted ears,
smiled vividly,
then disappeared!

I stood then,
on the sacred ground I had been longing to touch again,

(my very essence),
for the angel of truth,
allowing me to be present,
the time that was prescribed to me.

sneaking around the earthen grounds where,
once imagined I,
there would be happiness,
joy in plenitude,
so fearful was I of being apprehended,
told only that an evil child,
would want to reveal (e’en to himself) the gifts that awaited me,
at the summit of accomplishment.

I needed to know,
to see,
embrace the very promises given to me,
as a mere babe,
(those old and sage-like)
whispered to me,
that I had everything they lacked,
and in fact,
would lead the lifelong,
ambition they had hoped would be theirs to hold!

And so,
I dashed back behind,
the sprawling vines,
and could almost taste my triumph,
as I stepped closer,
to the source of the water,
that had taken,
(every one of the men, every one of the women)
all those before me,
more than my years tripled,
to see.

Then my once worn and tired eyes,
came across the watering hole,
lying before me.

Sighing deeply,
I could hear the faint tone,
of the death knell,
a sudden rush of titanic fear,
breezed over me.

The same sages,
(thought I)
were dead
from the trek
the ones who were not yet,
posed on the grounds,
in agony they wept,
and through the tears,
their faint and dying words,
rung clearer to me,
than any I had e’er heard.

After all,
(was said and even more done)
all they could do,
was plead,
to whatever gods would listen,
for a return,
to go back,
and relive,
all they had forgotten,
and touch the water,
the life,
the love,

From the spring,
a bright light came,
and witnessed myself did I,
(fear and shame banished forevermore)
giving praise,
adulation (most pure)
for the many reasons,
made clear to me now,
why I had come forth,
from this wellspring,
of glory,
of hope,
of happiness,
the beat and melody of my psalm,
abundant in its clarity,
and I joined myself in song,
praise most excellent,
the angel’s name,
(elusive as wind on a sandy beach,
when through the evening complete,
as loving couples enchant each other)
returned then with a fluttering wing,
and as I gazed upon her womb,
her breasts open to mine eyes,
the smile she wore bore no ill,
my mouth cracked,
(and before the next question could be asked)
her answer came forth,
in a moment to be cherished for all time to come,

“The choice is yours, my son,
ever and shall be the only one,
for you must decide,
whether to return to the stream of life,
and enjoy the downstream ride,
or maintain,
your silly pride and attempt to come back,
up the mountainside,
in the way your forefathers had!”

I pondered the truth of her words a moment,
to step into the spring,
and relax long enough to float,
tempting it was indeed,
to remain there (freed,
of the desire to hold on,
to my own miserable ideas),
seemed divine
or take the leap,
and faithfully believe,
there was someone else,
on whom I could rely,
I found myself convinced,
I had to cede defeat,
in order to really appreciate,
the life I’d been given.

Opening my eyes to the gifts that had been,
turned my head did I,
again before a word e’en emerged,
she raised her wings and sent me to flying free,
as the breeze caressed me,
and the spirit of love,
of life,
came over my once weak and tired bones,

I knew then,
there was indeed a way home,
the spring,
turned I,
to escape,
every lie!

Taking flight of my own,
the true flight of freedom,
eternally known,
by those who discover the truest measure of peace,
lie not in fighting against the troubles that hold them bound,
but rather,

in letting others live,
for a bliss that’s their own.

The top,
The beginning,
leading to,
the fantastic
(easy and smooth ride)
to my own,

As I started my glide,
I could hear
(off in the far distance)
the Angel,
spirit guide,
softly sending a child to the other side of the stream,
as she said,

to the world,
the place is yours to enjoy,
every toy you play with,
is but a taste of the kisses,
that you will explore,
as you discover yourself!”


By WILDsound Festival

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