The youth of my flesh wanes, life drawing lines near calm eyes. Some time has passed since falling into the cage city, my co-inhabitants meandering in their own filth. A traverse from the river to the shackle infuses spiritually perilous disdain. The drooling, defeated slaves look to the earth and plea for release, a stink of decay assaulting their hardened senses. Plants a mockery of life, disconnected and distant, nudging dim minds as an insult to what they once were or might have been. Children guided by foreign skin as true kin exchange precious time for rust.
The free sky hides behind their looming cages, desperate and longing for a lost passion once had by the now blind and once great race of star gazers. Clouds lament, praying to cleanse the desolate wasteland, a futile attempt as pure water tainted spreads the glaze underfoot and overhead. What sort of higher form could this be, compared to bison filled plains, a cool river and air pristine? I challenge any human hear, listen closely to the nocturne playing on our behalf. We trade our consciousness for an illusion of safety, our freedom to love for a lukewarm dilution of our soul. A teaspoon of the universe, of the origin, within each of us and we waste away. Better to pluck the eyes from our heads so that we perceive that even a fraction of a moment of awareness is the absolute greatest bounty, a bounty that belongs to us all. Rabid and grey, our minds betray us when our hearts should speak. It informs of a gap, of an inhaling void within that seeks your appreciation’s attention, directing love from where it belongs, between you and me.
So here I am, again, and withering away… watching as my potential slips into things lacking the breath of consciousness. If only I could be heard and felt, perhaps this trip could be different and perhaps, together, we could crush the cage. If you listened to me and to yourself, perhaps finally we would love, and laugh, and play. I mark things now and a full four seasons from a note not unlike this will see me fly away.