Accidental Snares

I am not your jailer, though if closely questioned You might admit to believing otherwise; moreover, you imprison yourself Behind these walls, and while beating those wings against the windows Must feel yourself to be the victim of confusing circumstance If I were to try to chase you down, you would no doubt have a seizure Of the heart, and die at that instant in my forsaken hands. The door is tall, and widely open: but you cling to the tops of small windows Envisioning through them the wider world, and a paradise You faint for hunger, in full sight of trees and foraging Ignoring the visible reality just beyond the door- I can no more show you the error you make, than you can show me How to fly. And so it goes; so long as man and nature have no common language Except for the beauty that exists outside of mans finite ways As long as birds and their children come by accident into human dwellings For a brief, bitter stay- All for want of a few shared words between us.