Imprisoned Spirits
How like a prison is my cubicle;
A prison,a trap, a cell,a place of fear.
For humans,this is truth indubitable;
We need to roam ,to see,to smell,to hear.
Yet in the bureaucrat realm , we must observe,
The rules laid down by generations gone.
And from their ancient code we cannot swerve.
Even if by rules we are undone.
Did Euclid discover how grave was a bath?
Did Moses fear to see the burning bush?
Did Einstein follow someone’s else’s path?
Did Socrates give voice to utter trash?
Imprisoned spirits are to revolution called.
Lest by Ariel they should be mauled.
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