Silence of the Free

The caged bird sings.
I know. That one is easy.
But what about the free bird,
That doesn’t?
Perched quietly above.

​

Is he mute? I hardly think so.
I swear a chirp's been uttered before.
Or perhaps it’s boredom?
A silent protest? Or a sore throat?

​

To have no restraints.
In a beckoning world.
To forgo its decoration,
With melodies sweet and pure.

​

The singers don’t see.
Caged or free.
For they become,
Caged by their own melodies.

​

To know we must wait,
For the unsung song.
To join amongst the cacophony of others.

​

[1] (https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/9i6aeq/airtight/e6kpwxo/) 2