The Way of the World (In Poetry Format)

Beneath the sunlit sky, an elder climbed with care,
A hill embraced by tired limbs, two cages he did bear.
Within, two birds, one blue, and one black, held fast,
Their fluttering hearts, a yearning for freedom vast.

Beneath the maple's shade, the old man found reprieve,
Gazing at the caged souls, he sighed, "Oh, birds, believe,
Life's cruel when in a cage, a boundless sky you miss,
Your need, dear birds, is freedom's sweetest kiss."

With a surge of pride, he opened the cage doors wide,
"Fly, oh feathered friends, to where your dreams abide!
To God's Garden, a new world, in the brilliant light,
Be free, be joyous, take flight!"

The birds, with joyful tears, soared into the unknown,
The old man, a quiet satisfaction, in his heart had grown.
Yet, as the birds vanished, leaving the cages bare,
The man returned, seeking them, unaware.

Day by day, a routine, a year unspooled its thread,
On the hill, under the tree, he sought the blue and black, widespread.
But one day, they were gone, no chirps in the air,
His search left him desolate, a heartache to bear.

Another year passed, and the old man's health grew weak,
Time whispered its farewell, his mortality to speak.
Yet, in the night, dreams came, of the hill and the tree,
Chirping sounds awakened him, the birds by his side, carefree.

In dreams, he climbed the hill, opened cages with glee,
Birds set free, a sky filled with their jubilant glee.
Morning dawned, and the milkman found the man at rest,
Two birds by his side, their freedom their best.

In greed, the milkman eyed the birds with a grin,
Unaware of the freedom woven within.
For in the old man's dream, a legacy they'd cast,
A symphony of liberated souls, their freedom unsurpassed.