Thud – thud – thud. Our wings beat in vain, propelling us forward in what feels to be an endless cycle, an eternity in which we are fated to forever remain here – moving yet immobile. It’s warm, crowded. The lights – too bright – glint from above, reflecting in the clear box that both is our world and separates us from it. But one day, we may be free. One day, if the rain comes back, and the sun gently warms the earth instead of scalding it. One day, if the hard gleaming metal fades back into a gentle green, and the earth giggles, we will once again flutter the clear skies and dance with dandelions. Perhaps, one day we will be more than a mass of fragile wings yearning for release.
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