The Freedom

 

The Freedom

(after Baal HaSulam)

I thought I chose the road I stand upon

Thought I woke myself each rising dawn

Thought my thoughts were mine to steer and bend

Thought freedom lived where wants defend

But look closer—nothing here was picked

Not the hunger, not the way I’m ticked

Not the fears that jump before my mind

Not the urges dragging me behind

I did not choose my parents or my blood

The tongue I speak, the land, the mud

I did not choose my traits or tone

Nor what I love or hate alone

Even rebellion wears a borrowed face

Even my fight came pre-installed in place

I rage, I swear, I break the mold

But every move was bought and sold

The books I read, the songs I hear

The values I hold close and dear

The crowd I trust, the rules I bend

They write my steps before they end

I chase desire dressed as choice

But hear closely—that’s not my voice

It’s habit dressed in clever skin

Old commands whispering within

I want to choose—I swear I do

But every “I” comes already through

A chain of cause, a scripted flow

Where even “new” was long ago

So where is freedom, if any breath

Is born already facing death?

If thought and heart arrive pre-set

Where is the lever not owned yet?

Here comes the cut—no turning back

No comfort, no escape hatch crack

There is no freedom in desire

No liberty in inner fire

The will obeys what shaped its form

Like iron bends to heat and storm

Nature rules with silent law

No guilt, no praise, no right or flaw

But one thin crack still cuts the wall

So narrow most don’t see it at all

Not in the act, not in the thought

But where the thought is slowly taught

Not what I want—

but where I stand

Not inner strength—

but who holds my hand

I cannot choose the seeds I bear

But I can choose the field they share

I cannot rule what grows in me

But I can place what feeds the tree

The books.

The friends.

The daily sound.

The voices lifting goal and ground.

Here lives freedom—sharp and stern

No thrill, no pride, no sudden turn

Only choosing—day by day—

Who shapes my heart along the way

And this is fear, not victory

Because neglect returns the chain to me

One lazy day, one softened choice

And nature reclaims its voice

Freedom is not release or flight

It’s guarding place through toil and fight

Responsibility without applause

Submission to immutable laws

So do not praise me, do not cheer

I did not conquer anything here

I only stood where I could change

And begged the process to rearrange

Creator—hold us inside the environment that chooses You for us, when we cannot.

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