His mind is imprisoned by a cage. He is framed with sentences handed down by strangers. He is alone even though the other voices fill his head. He is unaccompanied, even with the crowd in his cell. He argues among all, which conspiracy we should conspire with. He has the Freedom to sit with selves to hear who yells loudest, He has the Freedom to wait and see who wins today's war, for tomorrow it all begins again. He Paces round the cube, rounding off the four corners of his heart, soul, spirit and body. He Perspires beads of knowledge learned on his troubled travels not so long ago and, while circling above, they spy the carcass of his joy and humour.