The birds circle overhead, their wings spread wide,

They dance on winds that whisper, soft yet strong.

They soar as though the endless blue is wide,

Yet trace the same old path they’ve flown so long.

No walls confine them, yet they dare not stray,

As if the sky itself had drawn a chain.

They rise and fall, but never drift away,

Bound by a force they cannot quite explain.

And are we not like them, our fates unseen,

Believing we are free while we obey?

We chase the light, yet linger where we’ve been,

Forever lost upon the same old way.

Oh, cruelest fate—to dream of flight untamed,

Yet live within a cage that has no name.