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Precinct
Gaze at the birds,
They fly, begone…
In the open skies,
With wide open eyes,
They fly, the birds…
They fly and are gone…
Nothing ever stops them,
As the earth is for them…
Animals are here this time…
In rains perhaps there, at time…
In the forsaken forests,
They jive and jitter…
In search of food,
Whether sweet or bitter,
They move, not thwarted, for good…
Nothing ever stops them,
As the earth is for them…
I try to go to a different country,
But I can’t, as I am stymied…
I am not allowed the entry…
Why, why?
I cry…
They said, I need something, called Visa,
They have such a proviso…
Happy are the birds and animals,
With wings, legs and tentacles…
Being a human being,
I am unable in seeing…
Seeing the beautiful world,
Perceive, yonder, trees curled…
Everything stops me,
The boundaries, passport, Visa…
Am I not free? Am I a bull in Divisa?
Is this earth, not for me?
