While iron bars enclose me in their indifferent embrace,
I turn to reason’s guiding light, find solace in her shade,
Stoic thought, like a cool stone held in a trembling hand,
Urges the self to stillness, calls for a heart unshaken.
But reason’s words, pure as they are, grow thin and hollow,
In the depths of night when walls press close and tight,
When echoes of the world beyond tease with their fading,
I am left to wrestle with fate’s blind and turning wheel.
The cosmos moves, indifferent to my shackled limbs,
Yet I seek a fire beyond the stars, warmth for my soul,
Philosophy whispers of the calm that reason brings,
But my restless heart hungers for something beyond calm.
I walk the cell, pacing with the steady beat of thought,
Feel the blood flow, the pulse that ties me to the living,
Know that flesh will turn to dust, but soul will not wither,
Even in chains, I am not a slave to Fortune’s caprice.
What lies beyond reason, beyond Stoic command,
Is the tender cry of life that no prison can restrain,
A song that rises with the dawn, a breeze that stirs,
Hope and despair, twined together, like ivy on stone.
Oh, the mind may anchor fast, unbending in the storm,
But the soul, dear soul, is both a tethered hawk and sky,
It soars, it plummets, it weeps, it laughs without measure,
No philosophy can hold it, no sentence can silence its song.