Sing songs of Freedom...

I feel plagued by all these tangible desires, when I know that all I need is in my soul. I become transfixed on momentary lapses in faith in who I am, when I know the truth of my heart. I allow memories to capture my heart and arrest my mind, knowing all too well that to dwell is to stew in my own poison. When faced with other movers, I find it almost intoxicating when soaked in their attention, and I know that all it is for some sense of false security. Why do I still obsess about these things if I know there is no room for it to exist if I wish to be the person I want to be...

Will I always be left wanting even though I have all that I want? My physical being is surrounded by such chaos, but my mind is still frighteningly alone. Perhaps to be isolated from everyone and everything will bring me some kind of peace. Could it be that solitude is indeed Freedom?