city of iron
washed in dogwood bloom
gently resurrected
These lines were written by Steven, a friend whose body is imprisoned but whose mind is trying to break free.
Actually, we're all imprisoned. Sometimes the walls and locked door are obvious; other times, we don't even notice they're there.
But as long as we are bound by our emotions, we’re imprisoned. The prison may be attractive. It may seem spacious, and it may contain everything we wish for. We may never even know we're imprisoned. And the more enjoyable our imprisonment, the more we cling to it and the less we feel the need to change.
But until we free ourselves of greed and anger, of egocentrism and self-benefit, we will not be truly free. We will be in our own city of iron, impure, and without resurrection.