Friday, July 22, 2005
Poem of the day
This world is even large for wings;
The mindless seasons drive me down
Tormenting me with changing things.
A cage is not escape, but need,
And though once in, all travel's done,
I'll sing so every bird will know
My wanderings in moon and sun.
And all the crickets shall be stilled,
And stilled the summer air and grass,
And hushed the secrets of the wind
For when my final callings pass.
And if a friend should stop to talk,
Reminding me of what is past,
And ask the meaning of my song,
I'll say that only cages last.
—Robert Pack as quoted at ibiblio.org