I'm Really Flying High

I feel like a veal calf in his cruel pen,
unable to move or do anything to
change my predicament, knowing,
hoping, the end will come quickly,
but that it will not be pretty at all.
Actually, I'm growing suspicious
that they forgot about me; no one
ever comes to check on me or fix
me anything to eat. It's as if
someone out there is determined
to drain me of my lifeblood. How
much solitude is one man supposed
to take? How many dreams with
no one but me? How many solo
flights of hope? Pinned here,
hopeless, but I swear to you, my
heart still soars, my imagination still
flips in mid air. My body may be
failing, my circumstances may seem
grotesque, unjust, my lot may appear
hellish, but my life is more than just
this cage, this punishment, this destiny.
My life is more than just hoping for
a different life. I'm actually living
quite happily in my dreams, out
in the pasture free, chatting with
the boys out near the back fence,
chasing some bull off of my girl.
Amazing they can take from you
the world, but they could never
keep you from dreaming of it.
Pull your feet out from under you,
but, my, don't you keep standing,
don't you keep hoping against hope,
don't you keep crying, "I'm still here
which is proof enough I was meant
to be. Even in my demise I will
prevail. In my memory, you will
know of one who kicked hard against
the gates of hell as he passed through.
You will know of one who is still
dreaming even amid the flames"?

(2007)