My Own Path

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 I do not fear to die without consent,

It is living on this earth that fills my heart with dread;

What hurdles wait for me along the road ahead,

And who decided where my journey should be spent?


Whom did I ask before my life began to flow,

Who gave this frame, this breath that enters without choice?

Outside unopened doors, who wrote my name and voice,

And drew my footprints on the paths I did not know?


By whose unyielding law am I compelled to live,

By whose heavy decree must I endure this pain?

When I fell down, you called for me to rise again,

Yet when I asked "Why run?", what answer could you give?


Oh world that claims to own every dream I keep,

Why do you fix a price on every fear I feel?

Behind invisible walls of home and public zeal,

I ask just one thing: where is my consent so deep?


Inside me sits a hand that holds the guiding reins-

Is it fate, or God, or rules, or prisons of my mind?

I do not wish to break the people that I find,

I only seek to tear away these heavy chains.


If my life holds a truth, then let me find its sign,

Do not write out the meaning of my road for me;

I rise not by your order or your decree,

But by the voice of choice that wakes inside my shrine.


Hand back the reins of life into my waiting hand,

Then let the world inquire: "Whose path is this you take?"

And I will answer clear, for my own spirit's sake:

"On no one’s path-for now on my own ground I stand!"


The voice I sought outside through all those restless years,

Was asking from the dark within my inner space:

"Are you living by your choice in this short place?"

I run no more; I am the path, the answer, and the tears!

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