Trapped like a fly banging its head against
a window; angry and confused. This life’s
transparent glass will fool you, time and time
again. Here comes the rain! But you are stuck
inside, unable, in your bang-crashed head,
to turn around and fly from it – this glass
you do not even know is there. ‘This air
is solid, like a brick, or like an axe,’
you say, ‘but unlike both, cannot be seen.’
It isn’t solid air which stops you gaining
your freedom, it’s your terrible insistence
that something there is not. Stop using all
your energies to penetrate its skin.
Instead, try silence; save your wings for when
you hear an open window. When you do,
f l y a w a y.
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