Imprisonment

The square with its four boundaries
limits the flights, the wanderings..
The wings of imagination are caught in its perimetre-
binding, suffocating, the hold's getting tighter.

The words of wisdom, the big talks.
The precautions highlighted in all walks
snatch away the 'self', leave it in a maze..
only to see the world through haze.

Traditions are stable...they support
but they fence
They are shackles trying to bind time
but with passing time make no sense.

There at a distance is a new unsteady plane
waiting to be explored, to be touched
A plane beckoning the spirit
to free itself from traditions = security = imprisonment.