I think perhaps your heart is a little bird, longing to beat its wings in the high places, to sing and sing until Song itself says, "Enough!" I sit near you and hear the flapping of those tiny wings... Your body seems to float away. If you ran with all your might you couldn't catch up with that eager heart. You are a creature of spirit living here for a short while; don't ever imagine the bars on your cage are a part of who you are. Fly on, little bird: fly on -- until flight becomes you.