What is freedom?
Is it the right to do anything?
To feel like you are flying through open skies,
Or breaking the chains that cling,
That tie us to the fears we try so hard to hide?

 

Freedom is more than a word,
More than a meaning we are told to believe.
It’s deeper than anything read or heard,
It lives in the choices we dare to conceive.

 

Freedom is not always an action or a sound,
Sometimes it’s wishing, learning to wait.
It’s choosing the paths we haven’t yet found,

And trusting ourselves with our fate.

 

Freedom is a dream some hold at night,
A breath for others each day.
It’s learning to stand in your own soft light,
Even when the dark continues to stay.

 

It’s running through rain with nothing to prove,
Laughing too loud just because you can.
It’s finding your rhythm, learning your groove,
Becoming the person you always planned.

 

Freedom is quiet, but never small,
It hides itself in moments no one can see.
And maybe freedom isn’t perfect at all—
Maybe freedom is simply being me.

 

But freedom is not promised, not equally given,

Not everyone gets to hold it or choose.

So be free while you can, while it’s still within you,

Before it fades, before it’s taken from you.