A bird flies free across the brook;
From springs of life it sips.
It paints its name across the skies;
Beyond the clouds it dreams.

On the ground in a small cage,
Is another, sitting still.
With eyes raised, its longing stirs
For a life confinement kills.

Yes, oft I wonder why free birds
Do not echo songs as loud:
As birds sitting within bars-
Their songs stir sleep about.

The seasons change, we learn with time
From people met and crossroads walked;
And with every newfound sigh,
Are whom that hear and whom do not.

I know now why the caged bird sings
As the world dreams at night:
'Tis the song of hope and dreams
That sparks its song inside.

For when from ash caged birds rise,
And when their wings they finally spread,
Each sacred savour of wind beneath
Is sweetest honey in most cherished *****.

And upon its journeys it listens still:
For only they can understand
What cries all free birds fail to hear
And frees those caged once like them.

-c.t.