I know why the caged bird sings -1-

I know why the caged bird sings.

All I do is vain.
All I do is worthless.
All I do is futile.
All I do exists not if I cannot fly.

Every once and a while I dream of Maya Angelou’s free bird that leaps on the back of the win and that floats downstream till the current ends.
So I try.
I try drawing wings
I try untying my feet
I try opening my throat to sing
I try freeing myself from danger
Unfortunately to no avail.

Therefore I think to myself:
Why is it so complicated to free myself from a cage built with bars of steeled rage?
It feels like I am lost in the middle of a self-made maze and that my mind, and my mind only, holds its key.
How to exorcise this beast in me that feasts on banquets made of my ideas, dreams and aspirations?
Maybe I should slash my dreams in pieces, throw them off to the sea, then jump off the cliff, catch them pieces, and mend them back together shaping them into a sword that would grasp light and destroy darkness.

Somewhere over the rainbow resides my kingdom. A “manowarish” kingdom built with thunder, fire and steel where Valkyries fly and Sleipnir rises from darkness.
Somewhere over the rainbow I’ll meet me. Once that happens, me myself and I will live in a castle walled with emeralds and guarded by lionesses.
Somewhere over the rainbow, way up high, I’ll wear wings.

Somewhere, under the rainbow, today I breathe.
I breathe in a world where the wild at heart are kept in cages.
I breathe in a world where the good die young.
I breathe in a world of ungratefulness and quenchless desire of wealth.

I wish in a world where
"But a caged bird stands on the grave of dreams
his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
his wings are clipped and his feet are tied
so he opens his throat to sing”.
I wish in a mad world.
I wish in a world set on MUTE.

SN