I roam freely as long and as far my limbs let me. I see the abundant green canopies sway in soothing gait. I am free and no one could judge otherwise. No one hurt me. I am not a prisoner. I have all one can ask! Freedom. I saw a Pa and a Son, On a spring evening coming to a close. A slushy mat of rolling grass, barely drained of the morning pours. A ball is pitched. A hit! Run and get it! A miss! Run again and Repeat. Say I, "You want a catcher?" Caught a few right in the Mitt, And just one on the nape of my Wrist, Pride moved the dusk along. Move a door ajar, Hold a cup, Turn a wheel, It is a tortuous pain a few dusks forward. It is not sudden, It is not unbearable, Yet on every movement, Guttorally "ouuuuuuu...", If not me, perhaps for the World to bear, it is so painful! I have no misgivings, that I am anything like a tiger, but wailed like one on each step, whose shoulder dislocated a few days prior For the first time in a long time I am alive, Complacency to my wrist is a distant memory! With each blinding pain, I wondered, Whose heart is wrenched? Whose eyes swelled an Ocean? I stare! I am not a prisoner! I am free! A horse, a cat, a dog, a human, Aren't we all, when naked of norms, Alone? Perhaps it is early morning, and the dusk of Evolution is far!