outside my window i could see
a flowing river, a beautiful tree.
softly i stole to the window
the beauty outside beckoned me.
far across the misty plains grew
a pale golden flame of light.
silver was its blade,
gold flickered on the edges.
the healing light, for such it was
had finally come into sight.

the vision shortened, and my eyes fell
the bars in the window mocked my fall.
an insignificant dot inside a brick-iron cage
a soul cried for freedom from behind the stage.

i saw it from afar, it amused me.
a lot of fuss over a minor matter.
the creature lived, what more did it want?
the perfect chord can never exist.