A bird is found swimming in solitude
searching with the senses. As it is,
her ineptitude in the spoken word; now
failing as she might to describe how
she is surrounded by some certain ignorances--
something beyond that which can be seen or heard.
She refers to revelry when time, itself,
decides to speak. Barriers-- the walls--
are weak and fall. Then, what separates she
from the bleak spiders becomes entirely undone.
She cannot feel what will be won. She cannot
smell the scathing sun, neither witness
her own failing vision until it's gone.
She is tasting the wind, this bird, chasing gold
in the form of a home, for it's all she's ever
known to do. The spiders all empathize, but
wonder why she looks for more? She could strain
her eyes until, very well, blinded-- not recognizing
what she hopes to find will always be invisible
to her limited capability of perception.