That we are slaves...

That we are slaves is in dispute,
autonomy the bitter root,
that grows into a putrid fruit,
inedible and sick.

The cultural philosophy,
the tainted lens through which we see,
unexamined, just believed,
an old illusionist's trick.

I am in chains; I know its true,
fettered desire is nothing new,
once shackled to sin and now to You!
Who brought fire to this lifeless wick.