Independence,
independence,
independence, they shout,
convinced
that there is nothing
greater,
To live a life
devoid
of all hindrances,
to speak
and act
as one
without the need
to consider
any other,
that, they say,
is the height
of freedom,
What if,
however,
that unobstructed
independence
from any “other”
was just
loneliness
and isolation,
separation
from the world
around us
and others
within it?
What if
an unencumbered
self-determination,
one which never
yielded to another,
was overrated,
or something not suited
to us,
like a man who claims
he should be king
but then realizes
as he takes
his first seat
upon the throne
that he doesn’t have
a kingly bone
in his body,
that he lacks
the wisdom,
the courage,
and the fortitude
to last
a single hour
beneath the crown
without resorting
to panic,
knowing
that he is wholly
unequipped
for the storms
that gather
around him,
though he fought
without ceasing
for the chance
to stand
upon the highest hill,
where rain hits first
and where lightning
strikes hardest?
