A body knows such freedom,
As abides in the tingle of Twirl,
The orbit of extended limbs,
And constricted soul unfurled.
Though Skip may match in luscious sense,
A posture of childlike glee,
This surge of joyous movement,
Recommends itself to me.
Now Frolick has its own allure,
As through a field might skim,
The sticky sweet abandon,
Leaves no one’s heartlight dim.
Yet, Float, in all its apathy,
May just as well surprise,
This complacency embodied,
May release more passive vibes.
But me, I think I’ll choose to Fly,
Release the constructs of my mind,
Let flow inertia’s play,
For on the ground does logic bind.
The liberty of imagined things,
Is where true Freedom lay.