BOX

i live inside a tiny box
neither tall nor wide
and shake the chains that keep me in
and push against its sides
and when i finally break me loose
to breathe sweet freedom's air
i stand inside a bigger box
with no way out of there

i've lived inside these boxes
which i've slammed with bleeding fists
and wondered at what wise men say --
that boxes don't exist

they say these things are constructs
made of eyes and minds
that see life in a certain way
and put you in a bind
and freedom is a man's domain
when he will not submit
to being stuck inside a box that
defines his way and wit

and yet the box of "freedom"
seems just the ego's way
of dealing with the truth
that we are in a box to stay