The Mystery of Freedom
Freedom is a precious gift,
But slavery is so hard to lift.
Imprisoned in deceitful ways,
We waste so many golden days.
Freedom has different meanings too,
But it should include both me and you.
Each to grow and bear good fruit,
Not hounded down in hot pursuit.
Freedom means to give and share,
But its choicest gifts are very rare..
Time and money drag us down,
And thorns become the painful crown.
Freedom flies, an elusive bird,
To places where it’s thought absurd.
It can grace the poorest home,
Since God has not left us all alone.
