Freedom is a red velvet blanket on a bed for one, the orange of a sweet tangerine, the yellow of the Sun rising from the clouds. It's the green of the trees and the blue of a swimming pool where two people lock eyes and blush. A purple book cover; a pink wall in a bakery; a white sheet hastily thrown on the floor among sweat-stained garments. A brown bar of new chocolate; a gray, overcast morning, perfect for a walk. A black, impenetrable mural wall painted over old grime and regret with white text placed on its generous canvas."Strength." "Peace." "Passion." "Desire." "Intimacy." "Wholeness." "Experimentation." "Love." "Independence."
It's the power to swallow the advice I've been fed, or to reject it wholly, or just to taste it. It's the power to change the narratives I've read, or to follow them word for word. It's the power to be the devil incarnate or the purest saint. It's the power to love freely, and to know when freedom has disappeared. Freedom is too beautiful to waste, too amazing to surrender.
Freedom is Heaven. I am its creator, its resident, its patron. I am freedom and love and joy combined. I am Aphrodite.
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Aphrodite
Poetry"There's a blaze of light in every word, it doesn't matter which you heard: the holy or the broken, 'Hallelujah.'"- Leonard Cohen The poems in this series center on two characters: I, the speaker, and You, the speaker's subject. I is not a specific...
