It is the lonely 'I' in the captive 'me',
who wants to fly but couldn't be -
like the cranes on open grassy field,
like the cranes on open grassy field,
spreading wings - none concealed!
With the setting sun, my dear home,
where childhood does freely roam.
Though I am of it sadly aware,
Though I am of it sadly aware,
this is nothing but the caged air!
The moon will come, the sun away -
thus did set one fine golden day.
I try to flutter my bonded wings,
guessing what true freedom brings!
guessing what true freedom brings!
This, the only true life - it's a given,
we make our hell or our own heaven.
Prasenjit©2022
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