Mocking Were Those Birds

I know I was going to flutter.

Our thoughts are not the light that clutters.

Hoping here,

Moping there—

Can someone give me the eternal praise?

Did I like, or did I like not?

Is anyone ready to know

That liking has nothing—

Waiting had to do everything?

Lately, it has been worth questioning.

Singing afar, those birds I saw

From my altar...

Should I envy them, or not?

They are laughing from their nest at me, saying:

"We aren't caged — how is she?"

"Anyway, let's leave her aside —

We will wander on our joyous ride."