I, SLAVE

I, SLAVE

We, the slaves,
I am a slave, and I know it.

They may steal my life,
they may steal my joy,
but what does it matter? I know I am something,
something more than a slave.

I can dream big,
I can dream of the sea,
I can be a gift.

I can offer my precious being,
I can give the best of myself,
that which cannot be caged in sorrow,
that which has no price, cannot be traded,
cannot be exchanged for money. I am human.

The best of me is being human,
a tiny being who dreams,
who spends life crying,
who laughs at his own shadow,
and you know, I can be myself.

I can rise,
despite everything,
and dream freely.

I am something,
small,
a dreamer,
imaginative,
and in the end I will fly,
I will leave my prison,
and I will fly and be myself,
I will truly fly,
and I will leave nothing behind,
and in the end I will be free.

Then I will be the sea,
then I will be the sky,
then I will be nothing.

Then I will be everything,
I will be what I dreamed,
I will be pure air,
I will be light,
I will be love,
I will be that everything
I always dreamed of,
and no one will know that I flew,
and you know, that is good:
to be free.

And I will be light,
in some small corner,
and I will simply be
something new
in the beyond.

I will finally float
in the immense Love,
and perhaps I will disappear,
swallowed by Love.