The ocean’s white foam caresses me, carries me into the weeping horizon. As my borealis eyes become the sea, I sadden. It is freedom’s intention to devour my body without contention. I revolt. I grow enriched in seaweed. I twirl. The weight of my rebellion explodes as I can only carry what I need. I can now trace the limits of the sea. Still submerged, the superficial tension of my memories knows how to pull me toward the surface. I longed for the sensation that takes me to the verge of my imagination where I lift my mind from the veil of greed. It is the beginning of the realization that I should only carry what I need. My voice now extends beyond the sea. I sing through the wind’s voice. The oscillation between the water and the air creates me a new body. I wish to be the foundation of a tree whose knowledge frees a generation from the blindness and ignorance of greed. Transmuted into seed, I grow an inner tension one that says I can only carry what I need. As my outer shell breaks in an exhalation, I realize it is not about what I succeed to have, but who I am through the realization that I should only carry what I need.
The weight of what we carry continually wears us down until the day we have to leave it all behind. Freedom wins at the end, but it is our choice to determine how we let it win. Does it win without realizing why it wins? Does it win while being wrapped in ignorance and greed? Or are we free prior it desires to devour us? If we are already free, what is there for freedom to devour?