In ropes, little Sparrow attempts to fly
Feet tangled to the ground
But with wings ready to glide

The first burst of flight,
Sparrow struggles.
Sand and gravel getting in the way of
its lonely path

Then the next,
was none so different.
Winds howling;
Give it up its impossible
Your freedom is highly improbable

Shackles mocking Sparrow:
This is reality
The ground is your home
The sky is fantasy
There is no sun, no stars, no moon for you
What lies beyond is simply tragedy

Sparrow does not listen.
Wings beat against the shackles
Against the chains of reality
Sparrow gains a boost.
A last surge of adrenaline
The ropes seem to weaken;
Now courage seems to thicken

A gust of hope from beneath the wings.
One more.
Just one more.
And Sparrow is free.
Free from this dastardly reality...

And finally at long last.
The fetters have given.
The shackles have broke.
The rope has snapped.

For a moment. Just a moment.
Sparrow is free. Free to the edge.
Onward

To the cage of fantasy.

Sparrow realizes.
There is no freedom.
No ground
No rope
No shackle.
No not anymore.

There is but the fantasy
Of the sun the moon and the stars
The forests the skies the seas unending.

Oh lonely Sparrow
Sad little Sparrow
You were once fettered to the chains of reality
Only to be chained
and bound
by the horror of fantasy.

Oh sad little being
Once again you have returned
To the melancholy
You may or may not have earned.