the act which sets you free is a guest
remembering, formatting, cementing,
decelerating the accidents of rhyme; this
act of need, of kind, of truce, a kind of
thought – the thought that binds the act
and feel – the river and skin and word; the
act that binds the small, the worm and
thin and hurt, the will of all and naught.
Premeditated act or utterly spontaneous… does freedom care? So many layers to think about…
Freedom used to care. Back when she was not reducible to neurons and forty rules π
Elif Shafak… a different world. Perhaps freedom is an imagined state in which no mater exists, except of course in its imagination π
So much burden of possibility on the overworked ‘perhaps’. It will crumble soon, this perhaps, I tell you, under so much pressure π
Perhaps it will π