Captivated

A short poem written on the inside looking out, reflections on that specific moment.

Why is it that when held captive
The skylit clouds look more like mountains
And the leaves of green have too much depth?
How can it be that those billowing fountains
Stretch on and on with silent breath.

And if the sun shines through darkened curtains
It tortures more to see the light,
But if free wind blows on your face,
Then it seems your soul has lost its flight.

So why when liberation spreads its wings
The leafy trees look more like billboards
And the clouds have lost their priceless peace-
What use to feed the Primal Hoards
Permitting Godless man their final feast?