He scurries, rounding corners, looking back
breathing hard though quietly
feeling again the hard won key in his grip
He’s beat the jailor, and the jailor’s plan
and know the next door is the last
Stealthily, he hurries for the wall and its door
looking around at every turn, starting at every noise
He found the key by intuition and knows it will fit the lock
He rushes the final distance to the gate and opens it
The night is still, the stars tender and friendly
He quietly, quickly, closes the gate, relocks it
lest it be discovered opened
He sets out over the plain for the distant mountains
Higher up the jail looks small
jailed within the larger jail of the plain
jailed in turn within the larger mountain jail
jailed in turn continentally
jailed in turn within the planetary jail which suffers its long
incarceration in the jail of the solar system
jailed in turn by the shackles of galaxy
jailed in turn by the distance of universe
jailed in turn by the breath of imagination
And the higher your rise
the larger the maze
and the quiet viewer sheds a tear
for a freedom so fleeting
