In every heart there is a coward and a procrastinator.
In every heart there is a god of flowers, just waiting
to stride out of a cloud and lift its wings.
The kookaburras, pressed against the edge of their cage,
...
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from my earliest recollection I hated to see birds in cages. This sad poem adds weight to those thoughts...
forever inward year after year into Insight brightens even the sad memory of doom since next time the cage shall crumble in your presence a wonderful poem