Freedom- Part 2 of Anthologia

It is a feeling,

An ephemeral cloak.

An expression a thought, an ideal.

Yet wars are fought for it.

Sacrifices to appease this god.

Lives are balanced and weighed,

One for the good of all.

All this reduction

For the gain of one simple thing.

Is it gold? NO.

Is it Silver? NO.

It is Freedom.

And yet, in this biased world,

It can never be untainted, pure.

Anarchy is its harbinger.

Chaos it brings in its tow.

It begets wretched wantonness.

It is best bounded

By the borders

Of morals and virtue.

For nothing destroys a person

So much, so quickly

As absolute freedom.

The End

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