A lonely man is a captured, cag’ed bird,
With wings of flight, devoid of flying wings,
In wanton gaze through the vexing ring
Of Stoical bars, that hold him at the verge
Of insanity. He soars and for a moment brief,
Flees the perch from which his halting claws,
Now tired of their solemn stance withdraw
Their bony clasps, and that pedestal leave.
Plunging with the rage of taunted bulls, he throws
His quivering form hard at mocking bars,
In frenzied zeal forged through countless hours
Of numbing solitude, again and again he goes,
In vain, yet satisfied that he had been,
For but one moment, cradled in the wind.