Among his hundreds finished works of art /
the craftsman found the longly dreaded cage. /
Once forged of passion left his spirit scarred - /
it trapped and killed a bird just seeking gage - /
a home and shelter. Craftsman grabbed his cage /
but shattered pieces couldn’t quench his rage. /

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The anger vanished, guilt would take its place /
for craftsman only had himself to blame /
Could hands that crafted doom unlearn their ways /
or shall they always drag the ghost of shame? /
Among his hundred works he knelt alone /
And crawled; though had he ever really flown? /

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The pieces lay among the shavings sea /
That grew with every cage and harbored bird /
His hands possessed in an enchanted spree /
Would raise the sea; until the past is blurred /
the craftsman’s spirit marked his every work /
No scars, no rage, no flight - a free bird’s chirp. /