It was a beautiful bird, and so was the song. It was a
beautiful day, and so the bird had sung.
The wanderer came to her side, enthralled by the zest of her
voice, lost in the music of her making. He stretched his hand to touch the
lovely bird- alas, he couldn’t. A cage of glass kept him from the warmth of
touch, the truest of all our senses. The cage was of crystal glass. The cage
was beautiful. A cage, it still was.
And now our bird looks his way, and notices the man the cage
has kept at bay. A wandering gypsy, she thought, surely a man not to trust.
Long locks of hair, bearded jaw and a light so deep in his eyes. Still she
likes him, and so she sings once again, in a voice of silk, laced with raisins
of laughter, as sweet as honey and milk.
He asks her,” What a song cometh from thy lips, how it
changes my little world!” She laughs in pleasure, with a silent guilt. He asks
again,” Would thee come, in my hands? Together we shall fly in fairy winds, and
see oceans blue, winter lands afar, sing to the sweet delight of many a misty
mountain night, wander through grass so green, drink blessed water from a
sparkling stream.”
The light in his eyes so shone, that her heart skipped many
a beat and tone. Yet she spoke, in pleading notes, more for herself than for
him- “ I am bound to this cage of glass, and its master too, and I must be
loyal to his love. Thou are full of life
and brightest hope, with many a word silky smooth. Yet Stranger, I cannot break
this cage of glass, nor can I break my master’s heart.”
