Bird in the hand

The answers are in the silence
Listen to carefully
And they'll pass you by
Excessive thought births a vaccuum
It is in the doing that we truly live
The heroes of this reality are the trees
The birds linger and are given life by the wind
Beneath the soil is truth
Between earth and sky
We live in an illusion
I know why the caged bird sings
She recognises our common capitivity
Within the bars she is truly free
While we are imprisoned in the city
Long, cold, damp streets and alleyways
Lead us willingly to the comfort of purgatory
We prop ourselves us with caffeine in its various forms
Death comes to us all
Our clotted blood thickens within dried veins
The maggots have gone on strike
The quality of feed has diminished
Who knows what you can catch from the polluted dirt
The cynic is reborn