Borne in a quiver,
made of wood and stone.
Loosed by string and strength
in search of a home.
Freedom in flight,
unfettered from the throng.
A purpose predetermined,
fated all along.
Compelled by its master,
whether right or wrong,
to end a life
in a whistling swan song.
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I like the music concept playing while reading a poem, that’s interesting.
I have some idea of what this is about , and I had to read it again to get to a point of understanding. Wow! This is very deep, but I enjoyed it.