Free, one hundred percent

Life and Death; one an experience enriching you with joy and pain other relieving you from all. But the choice is not yours to make. In neither cases. Yes, it does mock the idea of freedom but it makes sense if you start reading the famous story of Adam (p.b.u.h) and Satan. Speaking of choices, you do get to 'choose' a lot. Like, should you wear your newly stitched cotton shirt today? Or should you save it for tomorrow's choosing drill and go on with wearing anything fresh out of the laundry? And true, you ultimately have the full authority of making 'such' choices. And then to give them your 100%. Stimulating synapses, one hundred percent, a friend would say: to make sure that you do save that newly stitched cotton shirt to make it available for tomorrow. And then if anything goes against expectations (the tailor sew it your sister's size), VIOLA your fate ditched you. You are a saint! Such is the nature of liberties you and I are given since birth. A toast to liberty. Let us mock it.

There are restrictions put on you by God. Very fine. Very limiting. Very well defined. And very logical. Though limiting they may be, they have a reason logical enough to have your head hang in obedience. You violate them and prepare to be wrecked. If not here then in hereafter for sure. Most of the times, these lines help you make your mind about something. Since they define 'the right' from 'the wrong'. Also most of the times, they make you smother, the intoxicating pleasures. Which again is a good thing. Mocked, every single day.

Then, there is another set of restrictions. Which are more pronounced than the Divine decree. And it is SO true. Try negating me. They are defined by you and I. We made them up. We came up with logics, crossing the borders of sensible understanding and voyaging with utter ignorance in the wordly bottomless, boundaryless ocean of insensibility - waving a flag of pseudo-wisdom. When all we have in store, is a recipe for disaster, ingredients being money and materialism, falsehoods and lies, cowardice and weaknesses, prides and pathetic-pathetic thinking processes, with the help of which we maintain our stiff postures, cold skins and dark hearts. Mock. I mock. I mock us all!

By refusing these silly strictures upon my heart and veins. Even if they help it survive for a while. Still, they are cutting off its nutrition. It is already malnourished. It will die. It will start on rigid sequence. I don't want that. My heart doesn't want that. It wants to be human. It remains human, if I stop listening to all this noise, made by us. It remains human, if I only have one set of restrictions, keeping me in lane. Even if I am assumed to be wrecked or I am actually wrecked. My heart will live fully to whatever short span it has. I don't believe in us. I am sorry but you and I are fallible mortals not God. True, we have been playing it for too long. But playing God doesn't make you one. And I am smart enough to know that.

And thank you for your mortal concern. But I have made my mind.