Illusion
Walking around the walls of your incarceration,
I search for a breach in the concrete
(This could be the very antithesis of the little Dutch boy and the dyke).
The years erode slowly for you on your side;
Sifting through meaningless mountains of legal jargon,
In search of fresh evidence to clear your name.
The sun is shining and being in one of my more contemplative moods,
I imagine I'm encompassing the walls of Jericho.
I don't have a week, like Joshua, before my visit
To walk round these walls seven times,
So they crumble by the very will and wrath of God
But an appeal to him for divine justice passes my lips nonetheless.
This concept called freedom which we both hanker after,
Continues to elude us, you on your side of the wall and me on mine
Like Dr. Who and Rose separated by some technical loophole in time.
But we are coping, you and I; survivors with or without freedom.
These walls remain but so will our love and our fight against injustice
The system has not destroyed us or our creativity.
So what is it this freedom we desire so much?
Does it exist at all or is it just a fragile illusion?
People are born free like Joy Adamson's lions
But there the concept stops - mortgages, marriages, money
The trappings of life imprison us all.
Freedom is a mere figment of our imagination- incarcerated or not.
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