Unkown Poem by Troy Clark

Ahead, hanging down low, are my keys

The keys to a box, deep down inside

it hangs from a Spruce, dying from ages

long past



from a love it held to fast, and too long

it grew to large for it's ecosystem, devouring

the light, the rain, the wind from it's lover

and ultimately, destroyed her



and himself along the way

for it couldn't fathom a world without her

so he cut, and dug, and chiseled

a ring about himself, to cut it's life's flow

so that he to, could die a slow and meaningless death.



And so it is to be, that eventually the branch

the holds my keys will break

and should they land within my hands

for freedoms sake, the chains I'll break

and set free the bird, barred from flight

within this box, deep down inside.