The chains of creativity

He is a creator…
And he is in chains...
But he was born free...

What caused this?
The answer is confusing....
Is it the inevitability of history?
Or is it the vicissitudes of circumstances?

Is he capable of breaking free?
Yes, why not?

But of what use is a lonely freedom,
That'll make him a mere automaton,
Yet another cog,
Whose only purpose is,
To perpetuate the existing scheme of things....

He is insecure....
But how can the security of a slave,
Substitute for,
The insecurities of creativity ?
How can the comforting shackles of slavery,
Be better than,
The rough shackles of freedom ?

He is in pains,
But how can the numbness of passivity,
Better the pains of activism?

Doesn't he have a right to raise questions?
Doesn't he have a right to strive for answers?

Should he meekly accept ,
Whatever meaning that life offers ?
Should'nt he strive for a deeper meaning,
A more noble meaning,
Than all those hedonistic meanings,
That assail his senses ?

Is it not a crime,
To retreat,
Into the cosy cocoon of Cynicism ?
Is not ‘Disillusionment’,
A moral Disaster ?

He is a pessimist by intelligence,
But.......
An optimist by will….

He is in chains,
And a lonely freedom is within his reach…..
But who wants a lonely freedom ?

A lonely freedom,
Cannot satisfy a soul,
That has grown one with all;
He is a Citizen of the aspiring world...
His own soul's freedom,
He asks for all.....