Trapped like a caged green bird
But what cage is it that surrounds me
Whose bars are made of the sadness of all things
Preventing to spread light angel wings.
Sorry little bird, you can’t fly free.
If I cannot fly free then I will sing the song of the zen flute bird,
Seldom known for seldom heard
Until the cage, the bars, and the wings
Fade away like soft sea foam.
The Boogar Chronicles 