Freedom within the form

How can we create a kind of structure,

a routine and a rhythm

while also embracing the freedom we long for?

Is this lack of structure

a lack of discipline?

Because we’re so used to being told where to be when, and for how long?

And this desire for freedom,

this desire to change something,

to re-invent ourselves –

is it not just a façade?

A mask we wear,

covering our true desire?

Our desire for purpose?

What, then, is more important?

The form?

Or what’s within it?

Are they equal parts of the same whole?

Or are they separate things that can survive alone,

but thrive when living in symbiosis?

You can have the form.

But it can crush you.

It doesn’t mean you have the freedom within it

to explore and travel through life with joy,

knowing full well your purpose within.

And you can have the freedom,

but without the form,

you just…

drift.

Some people are okay with the latter.

They are called drifters for a reason.

Rolling stones,

gathering no moss.

There is something poetic, in here, 

somewhere.

Trapped between the prose lies a poem.

It oozes from between the letters, wanting to be seen.

Why so elusive?

As elusive as one’s purpose.

Ha!

But purpose with a capital “P” is only there if we need it to be.

If we choose it to be.

But what is purpose without structure?

What is freedom without form?

Does ‘boundaries’ have to be such a dirty word?

Or can it just be a cage without the bars?

Just a box that the wind blows through.

Lines that guide you but don’t trap you. 

Poles that protect you but don’t tame you.

No one ever said freedom came with a price.

Oh wait…

but why must that price be so goddamn high?

Why can’t it be something joyfully paid?

Let’s, each of us, ask ourselves,

what do we want?

But more importantly,

why?

Here I am, punching words into the keyboard,

letting go of the oars

in this stream of consciousness.

Drifting.

There’s no right way,

there’s no wrong answer.

There’s just energy,

contrast,

and desire.