An Old Poem on the paradox of so-called "freedom"

When I was younger I used to write poems. I can’t remember the last time that I wrote one. I found this when doing some clearing up yesterday at home. I have to try and tidy the room that has doubled as a family “den” and my study so that we can get my son Henry in there soon as it is now going to be his bedroom. One major advantage of tidying (tho it does not come easy to me I have to say!) is that you come across odd things from a bygone era that you thought you had long thrown away. I remember that I was quite pleased with this when I wrote it. I wonder what you make of it all these years later:

Knowledge, freedom, cries the revolutionary
Expand yourself, free yourself from others chains
You can be you
Cast of the shackles of society
Rise up with me, become your own god
To your own self be true

Slavery to tradition, the views of other men
System, so secure forcing you to be “free”
Question not what elders, betters
Those who went before
Inflict upon you
Sons of the Revolution

And so the endless cycle turns full circle
The spirit of liberty devices again
Calling anew
The now old shackles of your “liberty”
Replace the ones your fathers knew
Can man truly be free?

And now, burning in the hearts of men all round the world
Revolution based from first to last on love
Renewing now the ancient paths
True freedom and life
In submission to its source

Cast off the bonds of your so-called “liberty”
Your spirit soars, now in union with its source
Free! Simply be
Earth fades in the light of eternity
Rise up, join us, become one with God
Free to be the real you

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