They pretend to know

They pretend to know

What freedom is

The tallest trees

Closer to the sky

Where the angels fly

So they say

Apples land further

From the high branches

Bad apples never fall far

And never seem to prosper.

Over the wall is the place to be

They whisper

Complaining about their roots

Holding them back.

On the outside

There is room to breath

The enclave is so restricting

Said the serpent

Who never left the lower limbs

Wrapped himself around them

Dappled in light

Camouflaged

He knew a thing or two

About duplicity

Pretending to know every outcome

Without any experience.

The Crow never saw an angel

But believed it

When the Magpies

Said that the Nightingale

Sang like one

He had never heard anything

Quite like it before.

He didn’t believe in magic

Until he sat on the wall

And could see

The world of difference

Between

One side and the other.

It was time to spread his wings and fly

There was more than one way

To find heaven

One course to travel

Stories were stories

Seeing was believing.