I was trying to

pull my hand loose, but my will --


then got stuck somewhere.

The thorns may have cut my hands off  
but not my will.  
It's mine whether to take the rose—  
yes or no!

It all happens there/work in a call centre job/go do what you want

I am motionless,

my will is like a goshawk --


exalted and still.

Picking one from many fools who ran for a small price
Tempted with morsels, contemptible as the beasts
Gullibly proud of unshakeable beliefs pleasing the ears
Snared they shall to slave that my free will shall be

a thousand options or two
are all but irrelevant
I need no choices but One:
of my arbitrary will
created perfectly, in
wisdom and potent power
that if not shall be and is
thus truth for it is thereof;
gladly I enslaved myself
to my very own then be
enticed and just as enslaved
to choices purportedly
for my good—or make my foes
cry—if believed piously
but unseen its that same One
of strange self serving powers
and their arbitrary wills
and truths in a post truth world;
alas we totally lack
knowledge, fed and believed lies
of freedom, choosing by will
to be proud and gladly slaved.

I'm afraid, free will

is rare, it's a luxury --


for the happy few.

The speaker pauses,

he is impatient, but can --


force himself to wait.

Will heart be in love?
Next time you meet somebody
Just never know when