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Birds and Cages and Fire MAG
A master asked his songbird if it dreamt
of open sky
It said “Lord, it created me, so I pray you
let me fly”
So, he opened the nearest window
And took hold of the feathery thing
And flung into the air a bird
With a pair of branded wings
The angels are fainting and they're falling from above
The lovers are frowning, 'cause they're
running out of love
Though Autumn's leaves are colored
They're beginning to die
And the poems are still breathing
But they're beginning to die
So our bird flew past falling angels, flew past rising men
Flew past crows who laughed and said that gladness is a sin
It dropped feathers into canyons
Dropped tears into the sea
Pondering liberation
And immortality
The thinkers think in circles, and they're rolling down the hills
The writers stab their parchment with the points of sharpened quills
Our dreams are never distant
Till they reach the world's end
And we have to hitch a ride to meet them
On the sunbeams or the wind
Blessings will blossom and curses will adapt
So our feathered hero flew, and then
was trapped
Its master, sipping centuries
Watched the little body age
Saying “you foolish creature,
Was it really I who wrought your cage?”
But we never could surrender
So let's defend the helpless bird!
On our lips, may there be a confession
In our hearts, the sacred Word
May we breathe the air which bore us
And wear our only Name
And though the odds are against it,
Fight for the flame!
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This article has 36 comments.
Published! :D
I am happy in my friend's recognition, however seemingly insignificant that recognition might be, a mere blip on the long lifetime of a raven. <3
Poems may die as easily as people die.
But at their deepest level, both are everlasting.
Perhaps you will offer me your hearts.