The Slave Within

My breath is heavy, my eyes are weary

My heart beats steadily, but without any melody

A battle does rage in the field of my mind’s stage

That tears my soul apart, like youthful innocence with age

Desire calls me by name in ways I cannot resist

But a fallen leaf, from the great tree of my soul, insists; I must desist

Am I alone with such weight on my shoulders

As I wander to quench this call of desire?

Who will take this burden from me?

That freedom may come in doing as I please?

For the urge to respond I just cannot kill

As I struggle in futility to retain my will

But even the petals of each Rosa Yellow

Do yield to the subtle beckons of the earth below

To leap from the rosette into a freedom unknown

And enjoy all the pleasures of that infinite fall to the floor

To leave that circle of glory so brilliant

And wither in the hot dry sands of the Sahel Savannah.

 

Now I know I hear not this call alone, But still a peace my heart cannot know

Except the kind with a lingering hollow, that erodes the hope of a happy tomorrow

I have embraced my desires and fuelled the wild fires

Yet the manacles only tighten, the emptiness, more demanding

Perhaps, I will choose to be a faithful slave,

To the One whose hand is mighty to save

By accepting His precious gift of choice,

The Master under whose whip I may rejoice

For being a slave to the Highest Master

Is freedom from the rod of every other

Now my breath is light, my eyes twinkle so bright

My heart beats steadily and hope is its grand melody

A battle does rage in the field of my mind’s stage

Yet my soul is tranquil, far beyond the reach of waves that rage

For I once fought battles that I was fashioned to loose

Till my place at the Master’s feet I learnt to choose

Here I am strong, here I am safe.

Here I am truly free. Only here am I alive.



4 thoughts on “The Slave Within” by Kay (@Kay)

  1. @kay. Deep and splendid. Well done.

  2. This is good. Well done.
    Welcome.

  3. Kay the 1st few lines took me back in retro, sounded like smfin i could write, smfin i once wrote, the rest of the poem was like a journey i have taken many tyms upon this life time.

  4. Many thanks guys! @aphascea, I recently read somewhere that the journey is the means to an end- the destination. But at the end, it is the journey in itself that really matters. Profound truth!

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