through the
Humbling Portal
of these
Hallowed Pages
you'll find

Hesitant Plunges
both by new
and "older"
Honored Poets

using
Harmonious Palettes
to create
Haunting Pictures
sometimes giving a
Heavenward Peek

through
Hypnotic Potpourri
Heady Perfume
even
Happy Poison

while
Hapless Pixies
and
Hopeful Prophets
Hunt Pearls
and
Hold Parades

that result in
Holy Pandemonium

yet
within our reach are
Homegrown Peaches
Hanging Pome
for our
Hungry Prowling

as we read
tales of
Heartless Paramours
Hissing Pit-vipers
who gave
Half Promises

we decipher
Humorous Puzzles
Hardest Perplexities
based on
Hysterical Pretexts
until our eyes see only
Haphazard Pixels
on the screen

and in a
Helpless Panic
we quickly read
the notes
a
Hasty Postlude#

I know why the caged bird sings.

It's not because his song
is as vibrant
as his feathers, that he plucks away
each day because he doesn't
feel beautiful.

It's not because of the majesty
that exist in the freedom
of being able to spread his wings
though he knows
he'll never rise to the occasion.

He sings because he believes
that this cage
was made for a king
because he has never tasted
freedom with a side order of skies.

He's never flown past the sun
on a cool morning
or hung with the moon
on a warm night.

He's only ever known
the comfort of a prison
that his thoughts have
become accustomed
to calling home.

He would never venture
beyond the "welcome" mat
because what's beyond the threshold
holds no promise
the way these bars and metal locks do.

He sings because he knows
that no one is listening
so if he makes a mistake
he doesn't have to live with the regret
or embarrassment of knowing that he missed his note.

The caged bird
never believes that he's caged
because behind these walls
he's safe
and he prefers it this way.

I know why the caged bird sings.

The feeling of my intention was clear.
At one time or another.
"Find a place to share what's inside."
"Maybe, maybe it'll fade, at least for awhile."
"Mix it up a bit, shine light where you spread the dark."

Suffice it to say, I'm worried this won't turn out the way I had hoped.
It's not to say I'm on the brink of the end,
But at the moment in this lifelong battle, when my eye flickers to a detail I missed.

There's a ***** in my armor.
A small sliver.
As that unwanted passenger swings it's blade once again, sparks fly, and in that second of light, revealed.

The sliver is now a crack.
I can't seal this and sooner or later it'll spill out.
I just wish, one day, it'll stop.

Until then, I'll burn away and rise from the ashes like a phoenix to continue this infinite cycle.