Hollywood, Calif., Dec. 9, 1972

Hooked, on the road to freedom?

By Vladimir Huber

To wait, without knowing what will happen
It’s like to get on the road, without knowing who will pick you up
It’s like to be ready to die, and somebody tells you
that there is a chance
The bird sees the hunter, and it remembers that it has wings

In the wait, I learn. Of patience and, of how much I miss her
She calls from the distance, but her call is not strong enough
That’s what I feel, at least. That’s what I hear
Her heart is strong, but she doesn’t want to say it. Why?

Days go on; things change; my outlook, too
I think of my name and the ones who don’t know it
It helps me to feel humble; smiling, the stress fades away
I look out the door; no letter; no one calls. Well…

How much can one depend on someone else?
How much can be lost, because somebody is not around?
How can one talk of freedom, when the chain is shiny?
Or is it that freedom can exist
when two hands are holding each other?