The key

The key                                                                                                     

Once you train your will upon freedom,

only the key to the lock has value,

all other objects equally worthless,

crushed and scattered underfoot.

Ignore the ill-fitting, misshapen and static,

props of the inherent slight-of-hand

which do not internally align, similarities

meaningless and obfuscating; the entire range

from noble endeavors to fetid desires –

mere blind alleys, wastes of time.

Freedom whittled down to one tiny,

exactly notched, sharp-pointed instrument.

Once you train your will upon freedom,

only the key to the lock has value.

O child of God, the play of illusion

beguiles you everywhere you turn.