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What price for Freedom

His saffron robes and beaming smile,
Marked him as a man of freedom.
He had given away the shackles that bind him.
No possessions, no home, no kin.

Sacrifice had not been his goal,
Absence of suffering was what he sought.
His meditations daily,
Brought about his perfect mind.

A willing group of followers
Fed him every day.
He saw their suffering mindfully
And with kind words he showed them a way.

I watched this robed man often,
From the window of my office.
I wondered how he managed,
In these times of financial gloom.

I envy him his freedom
And his seemingly carefree life.
I would pay handsomely for a life so free;
If only I had the time.

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He likes to think he is a better motorcycle rider than he really is. He also likes to think that he is very cool, riding his long-board skateboard down the street. The truth is, he is an ageing hippy who loves listening to the blues and writing poetry.

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