What a fancy flight you've taken
but upon your return home
the glass cage you've been staring out of
suddenly becomes unclear as your two worlds collide, now looking inward.
With a seemingly unobstructed path
the deceiving view became a reality
upon impact as the pain set in
and you realized you are now unable to fly.
Feathers flying, you've lost a part of yourself
much-needed for you to soar
and be all that you can be...
You are mamed, but not dead.
Nest and you will die
from the outside in, first from your wound
and then from lost potential, shared beauty lessened, despair and blackened spirit.
You were meant to fly.
Feeling helpless, I could swoop you up and coddle you
as you need to be, repairing your wing, propping you up
but the gain thru self-discovery, internal healing
and self-rehabilitation will bring strength tenfold for future flight.
Clouded by selfish judgement, reliance on me
by caging you for my own pleasure is first thought
but with guidance in your healing and giving you an unobstructed path
perhaps you will freely fly back to me to sing a more joyful song; just for me.
Fight, little sparrow, for I can't stand to see
such beauty go for not...
your song, soothing
your flight, revelry
your gaze, innocent
your feathers, intricately gorgeous.
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