When you steal my words, I need to go and capture new ones. Floating carelessly in the air, jumping from trees, I get hold of their vibration and translate it into letters.
My birds, they're not meant for terrariums with low ceilings. Can't you see it? They need air under their wings.
I relocate my compass, it's naturally calibrated to point towards bliss. I still press re-set several times, just to be sure, but day after day it gives the same direction: an upward spiral.
To the clouds and beyond. They shall follow me, with their tails drawing new tales to tell, to the clouds and beyond.