I Am The Bird That Escaped

I write on the winds. I write on the seas.
I write in the sands. The bird that escaped
the cage, the gilded cage that was set apart
and proclaimed the axis of the world. I am the bird 
that escaped. The others content in the gilded cage, 
a voice that told them, a lying treacherous voice that told 
them fractured mysteries and daintily painted untruths. You are 
the universe. You must rule. You control the winds the earth.
Some of the birds black with broken and tattered wings 
sat among the loudest singers of dangerous and 
selfish songs, the most to be pitied, but I was 
the bird which flew away from the self proclamations, 
the self exaltations of greatness.  No commonality binds me
and those birds in the gilded cage of fake gold and plastic gems. 
The voice, the cage that brought so much cold sadness, the 
death of the genuine, imposed a false existence
experience. But I am the bird that opened the 
latch and flew away.