Man is born a creature unlike itself.
One million aspirations bouncing around itself,
Energetic, effulgent, indefinitely wishing for itself,
That it ought to become all that is not itself.

But time wears at the spirit of that self.
Entropy robs them of identity, of will, of self.
They build their own cages of codes for itself.
While that cage rots and weeps under the pressure of itself.

Yet all that is are not that which is not themselves.
You cannot be you and also everything else.
What are we if not birds in a cage, awaiting itself,
That it will one day die, and became all that it isn't once more.