Choice of freedom

It is winter
No sound cuts through the
ceiling fan, unmoving by its blades
wheezing the house
All lonely, wide of eyes
It looks down upon
its past beneficiaries:
The sweating men,
The mid day school children,
Mother and perspiring wife, and
The summer guest;
Now are cuddles together
inside coldness of the house

Only a stray thought
Churning deeper inside
Come to grip the ceiling fan –
What is existentialism
But a seasonal upturn
To be free, and
Not to revolve
But to be with the switch
Sartre and its choice of freedom

4 thoughts on “Choice of freedom

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