If a snake could not cast its skin, consider
It would no longer grow or slither
And so stagnant, dry up, shrink, and wither
Should nature not be blamed
Yet just like skin that's shed behind
A soul journey is often serpentine
A winding path, never defined
For it cannot be contained
A bird comfortable within its cage
Lives like an actor upon a stage
Playing out its role until it's aged
Because of belief in its restraint
Yet when doors open with a renewed eye
Limitations are the only lie
Birds remember they're supposed to fly
For they cannot be contained
So wise as serpents, doves innocent
Skins we outgrow, with wings ascend
Into the worlds for which we're meant
And growing might be pained
Though suffer may, yet not succumb
We live the truth of where we're from
In faith and courage overcome
For we cannot be contained
Fifth dimension poetry,
TWS
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