The young shadow lies upon the ground, unable to break free from the captivity that surrounds it. An anxious flutter of its wings breaks the daunting silence that penetrates the darkness.
If only I could stretch forth my wings and fly the small bird whispers in his heart, as he anxiously peers out towards the small window with the small crack in which his freedom patiently awaits.
A freedom to which night has fallen, now abundant with bright magical stars and a beauty so great, that the bird's old memories have failed to remember such a world.
Why am I here? The bird trembled with a hopeless longing.
Oh, my dear lost bird, you wanted your life to be this way, remember? The night air softly whispered through the small crack in the small window.
Remember, not too long ago, you were out here in this nocturnal life. But you were not happy, you see, just being sovereign over your little domain. You longed for another world. The world which you have now. You never thought to think of the dire consequences of your actions. You longed for that which is not free in life. You wanted that which now holds you captive. Wandering along, a small disgruntled soul, you never sought to look at the beautiful world that surrounded you. You had everything that you needed in this existence to make it blissful. But you tossed it carelessly aside for the world beyond that which was freely given to you.
Yes, dear bird, you might now have hansom feathers and a stunning beak that shines when light strikes. You also are given delectable food and sparkling clear water whenever it strikes your fancy. But at what costs? I find you, in your sparkling cage of silver, dissatisfied with life. It is a vicious cycle you have laid for yourself.
Never again will you feel the cool air whip across your face as you battle against a storm. Never again will you fly with the bumble bee and laugh with the flowers. The lakes shall never hold your reflection afresh; or shall the trees branches hold your weight.
You may have your dream. But is it the dream you should have dreamed?
The wind came to an abrupt end. The voice faded with that last, haunting question vibrating through the air; vibrating through every breath that the bird breathed.