POETRY: Free Limits

No one is free,
not even a wave,
which leads a blissful life,
spending the whole to cast a shadow
of the eruption of life.

Not even a sky,
which covers this earth,
but what all it bears,
for being such a protection,
it weeps whenever,
its strings are stretched at its ends.

And of course not me,
who is bound to write,
whatever; he makes out of the world,
stuck in between.