Called to be Free

My freedom comes with a price,
And though I don't know it's value,
I feel the weight emerge over my life.

Some incalculable debt erected for view--
A marker of the deeds I have not yet done,
An imagine of thoughts from which I eschew...

And I unfortunately wonder, in my careless fun
Of the fate of my unfreed neighbor
Is there satisfaction amongst them, even just one?

How is their plight reflected in my labor--
This being the source of my looming debts--
I owe them something, from a purpose which is greater...

How can I let them live beneath my sweat,
Trapped in filth, in pain, and without joy,
Where every day is a dangerous game of Russian Roulette?

Where is my need to use my precious freedom to employ
Thoughts and actions meant to foster good and entice
To solve some problem of those trapped and unable to destroy
The chains that bind them--to pass on the chance to survive...