To be free is to see,
the microscopic veins of leaves,
the scarred, rolling landscape from on high,
the aquatic life happily playing in their watery home.
To be free is to feel,
the damp soft cool ground beneath your bare feet,
the warm sea breeze on you skin,
the harsh chilling breath of winter.
To be free is to hear,
the morning song of birds as the sun rises,
the mating calls of animals at noon,
the hunger of a night hunter as the moon shines.
To be free is to smell,
the prairie flowers fresh fragrances,
the flowing river full of minerals,
the far off lands unique and intriguing scents.
To be free is to taste,
the healthy wild greens,
the shimmering river life,
the metallic life force of another.
To be free is to live the life of the wild.
Not one dependent on machines
Enclosed by stone
Not one that is killing us both faster than natures cycle with artificial chemicals.
Not one that will soon be gone.
You think a life like that is free.
You don’t understand what to be free truly is until you’ve seen nature through eyes untainted with a fake free life.
