It's Always Down Hill Poem by Kevin Patrick

Is a bird free because it can fly?
Or is it just trapped to circle the sky?
Climbing higher and higher to the limits of north
Before it descends on the air as the remnants of compost
Turning over its feathers to try and break the hold
Of gravities marriage which none can divorce
Accept through assistance of liquid nitrogen
It's sad when there are limits to what you find in comparison
For what gifts are wings without boundaries to cross?
To circle forever as an avian ouroboros
Perpetually attaining the height of stratospheres
King of the towering high-rises of steel
Lords of New York and emperors of Beijing
But never released from its impoverished searching
That it has to fly forever over to escape its free will
In the certainty of knowing it's always down hill