freedom

The Grace of Being Nobody

There was a time I believed I was what I did.
A title on a door, a name on a card, a face in a crowd that someone might remember. I believed identity gave me direction — that it made me visible, even valuable. Every new role felt like a new skin, warm for a while, then suffocating as it tightened with expectations.

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Multiplicity

Life, they say, is fleeting and brief,
A canvas of moments, joy and grief.
What we create may fade away,
Yet meaning lingers in each day.

“Focus on now, let go,” they declare,
But the heart, unbridled, lays itself bare.
Where do we pause, where do we bind,
When storms of feeling crowd the mind?

To let it flow, or to restrain,
A dance between freedom and chain.
We walk the edge, not wild, not tame,
Living lives that bear no name.

Perhaps the truth lies in the art,
Of weaving reason with the heart.
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Free will

What makes you free is not what you own,
But the peace in what you let go.
Freedom lies not in what you gain,
But in the chains you disdain.

Attachment’s not in what you cling,
But in those who to you, they bring.
To be free is a life’s embrace,
Not a goal, but a boundless grace.
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