What is this curse, this farce?
To have a head with a heart?

A brick suffers no turmoil.
A stone lives free of pain.
Flightless birds are content
if they haven’t seen the sky.

Plato’s prisoner was freed
through pain and struggle
only to become an outcast.
Every prophet drinks from a cup
of bitter poison.

Better then to never
gaze at the endless sky
or open the doors of the heart.

Better to stay content
with the shadows on the wall.