I was Not Meant for Chains

I seek something the world cannot name, beyond the reach of clocks and calendars, where wealth has no password, where rubies and diamonds are poor beggars at the door of eternity. My mother could not hand it to me, my teacher could not carve it into my bones, not my preacher with his hallelujah chorus could trade it into my hands. The gift I hunger for is freedom. Not twenty strings sunk into my flesh, hoping to just bleed to death, not the endless service to Pharaohs who never ask if my body is weary, who never care where I rest my head or if my soul burns in hell or ascends to heaven. Even when I chase liberation in God, the shadowed hands of this world clutch me, drag me, whisper temptation. They want me bound. And sometimes it feels like death is the only key that fits the lock.