If freedom were so free,
Why does it feel like chains?
When all imagining expires,
Only truth remains.
Stories that keep us going,
But fall like a house of cards.
Identities crumble to rubble,
Constraints under the shards.
If every moment was caused,
And every cause birthed more,
In a woven web of pathways,
No event stands alone.
It’s true there’s not much time left,
And yet so much to know.
But what if it’s only projection—
There is no time to flow?
Illusions rise and fall,
Time dissolves in its glass.
Truth is all we have,
The thread that binds all paths.
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