Freedom’s Paradox

The cosmos doesn’t wait,
it pulls, it drags you through the dark,
through the light — whether you want it or not.
You resist, fight the tide,
but resistance is a prison,
and freedom? A surrender.

To surrender is not to fall apart,
but to fall into the greater whole —
to be carried by the current’s grace,
a leaf in the dance, released, made whole.

Stars blink not in patience
but in truth — timeless, unhurried.
You clutch to clocks,
to tales of what was,
to fears of what might be.
But change is a river,
and you cannot stop its flow.
Step in or be swept away.

Resist, and feel the weight of change
press its iron hand upon your chest,
for the stars, indifferent to your fight,
will pull you onward nonetheless.
The paradox, my friend, is this:
the more you fight, the less you own.

Freedom lies not in the battle,
but in the release,
in letting go of the rope that burns your hands,
trusting the current
to carry you where you need to go.
You either swim with the stars,
or drown in their reflection.
The choice is yours,
but the river flows just the same.

To be truly free is to cease the grasp,
and in that stillness, to be shown:
Freedom is not the absence of fate,
but the trust to ride its shifting stream.
Surrender, and the chains dissolve —
resist, and you’ll be bound to dream.

Surrender, not in defeat,
but in knowing —
the cosmos moves,
and so must you.
Freedom lives in the quiet stillness,
where fear dissolves,
where the future no longer claws at you.
Let the universe bend you,
shape you like water on stone,
until you are smooth enough to flow.