( Door Crack Shadow by mandaandapop on Deviant Art ) The freedom that we wanted couldn't bring itself through the gates, so we imagined it pressing its paws to the soil beyond the walls we erected, heard it weeping plaintively just outside of our tiny rooms. Said we could smell it in the breath of every passing spring, spoke of its splendid dance waiting with shoes for our feet. We said we imagined that we heard its velvet voice flecking upon our ears and that we tasted it in the water gracing our lips. After time, the long shadows that stirred beneath our doors began to startle us with their quick and brutal motions, and then they began to console us with their torturous laughter. They never once spoke of freedom, made no mention of its demise. © 2012 by mark richard prime
(The Weaver's Song)