Tuesday, June 17, 2014

To Be Contained

Bones are bars and behind them is a bird
that flutters and fights but only to fail
escaping them until the rail gets blurred
and the bird is delivered from the jail.

The heart that learns to beat between the 'bars'
the soul that is limited by a 'score',
the game, this life and all its destined wars
are but the music He creates ashore.

And we die 'being', we live only to cling
to these waves that are nothing but the trail
of thoughts He drops into an endless string;
we embrace the wave but forget to sail.

Why is it that the father so ordained
that we'd be us only till we're contained?

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