Will you dance in the meadows,
Or look through the window,
Will you move your feet to the wild, frenetic rhythms of life,
Brushed by the tall grasses with the wind in your face,
Or will stay, “Safe,” behind the pane of glass that separates you and the breeze,
Will you know the cut and scrape of the wild, enraptured dancer first hand,
Or will you try to capture that feeling vicariously from the isolated safety of separation,
Will you accept the knowledge that loss is the cost of so much gain,
Or stay safe, and numb, and detached behind the window pane,
Will you dip your toes into the icy waters, knowing that their flow could chill you to the core,
Or stay warm and dry, inside, wanting for nothing, except more,
Will you listen to the birds, without their song being muffled by a sheet of glass,
Will you bristle at the words, spouted by the long troubled, shouting that this fear will pass,
Will you consent to live second hand, smothered in the arms that, “Protect,” you so,
Or will you break free of their clutches and surrender to the winds of chance,
Will you spend your days sighing at the window,
Or let your spirit sing among the meadows while you dance?