Echoes of Freedom

Within the steel-caged towers,

breath is a measured rhythm,

each exhalation a whisper of resignation.

The hum of fluorescent lights—

a sterile choir singing the hymn of obligation.

Hands shuffle papers, eyes glaze over screens,

time folds in on itself,

an endless loop of clockwork monotony.

Concrete corridors echo with the footfalls of routine,

and in the shadows,

the air is thick with the weight of unseen chains.

Each day is a copy of the last,

pixels and paper becoming the prison walls

of ambition’s quiet desolation.

Yet beyond the grid of glass and steel,

where the horizon sweeps open with the promise of the wild,

a different world breathes.

Here, the fields stretch wide,

a tapestry of green threads woven by sun and soil.

Freedom is not a distant dream,

but a tangible embrace of the earth’s pulse.

Under the open sky,

the rhythm of life is the rustle of leaves,

the whisper of wind through golden stalks,

the symphony of cicadas at dusk.

Hands are stained with soil,

and every calloused finger tells a story of liberation,

each seed planted an act of defiance against the cold,

impersonal hum of office hours.

The morning dew is a promise,

a silent vow that each day brings renewal.

Here, time is not confined by walls,

but flows with the seasons,

a fluid dance between the heavens and the earth.

In the embrace of this untamed land,

there is no need for escape—

freedom is found in the gentle rhythm of growth,

in the quiet contentment of a life aligned with nature’s laws.

The steel cage fades into memory,

its echoes silenced by the vibrant harmony of open fields,

where the soul breathes deeply,

and the heart beats true to its own drum.