Never Ending Search Poem by Sandra Feldman

Freedom,
Being too Free,
Is there such a thing?
Seems that today,
It's so
All taboos, restrictions
Let go,
Down, wrong rivers
We flow.

Before,
All was sin
Now,
Nothing is
And we're still not happy!
There we stand
Like idiots
With open hands,
Waiting for
Happiness, completion
To fall from the sky
Not even knowing
That this feeling of emptiness
Is individually created
And that happiness is
What we want to make it
The potential for it,
In each individual lies
It cannot be donated
Or created,
No matter how much
A spoiled and decadent society,
Tries, complains or cries.