Dialogue Between Scepticism & Traditional Orthodoxy

FREEDOM:  by K.F. age 16

I don’t want a role, Director

Or a make-up mask.

I don’t like your script, Play-writer,

So don’t say I’m type-cast!

But, Mr God, I want to fly –

To try to see from your eye,

(Up there in the sky ),

Your cage of a stage.

But there, I won’t be free

To be or to see –

For heavy my wings shall grow,


Full of my own sorrow.

14th September 1987    Brighton


My  ways are ways of pleasantness

And all my paths are peace.

From here, you see there is no cage

But a state of true release.

Pure air does not confine

Those who wish to breathe.

Nor does the Beloved struggle

To be free from her lover’s arms.

Will you teach your child the Highway Code

And not to play with fire ?

Those ‘cage bars’ are but signposts

To warn of perils, dire.

The actors in my play,

To improvise, are free.

I’ve left it open-ended

So that people such as you

May choose to try it your way,

To ‘make it’ without me.

I’d tell you, if you’d listen,

But you don’t have time to hear

A Father’s tender admonition

Or feel my presence, ever near.

But you were made for fresh, pure air

And poisoned fumes will harm.

So, were you made for Love Unknown.

Outside, alone and ‘free’ you’ll roam,

Restless, earth-bound, indeed –

‘Til you start to seek the truth

And I can really set you free.’

18th September 1987    Brighton






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