For the birds

Endless rows of flats, each block more eager to block one another
as if they might have been creepers crammed, climbing atop one another to reach the sun

Artificial: Pigeon holes
if you grew up in one of those nests
you may understand the comfort of having all you need being within your reach

All you might ever do is look far out – before
another building
your view and stretch out into a metallic horizon?

An insatiable longing for something you will never get,
or something you can never be
no matter
how good your possessions are,
There is never enough

Life as a waltz: for the birds
each stride their wings take
to launch forth, a constant motion
up above the world so high

Young one,
it has been years since your wings
were clipped, by –

– society – family – obligations
a hefty price to pay,
for the comfort and safety that came with the nest that stuck with you
or is it the one you’re stuck with ?

Till death undoes this contract, that is.

Is this also why the place we live is coined a ‘garden city’?
trees at large – or rather, restrained – nests and birds, pigeonholes for pigeons.


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