• Vol. 08
  • Chapter 12
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The endless search for a lock

Do I see or just think that I see
Do I know or just think that I know
That the key with me will let me be
To let me in, be that wily crow
Making water in a bottle rise
And crown me as the one who is wise?

Do I hide this key so no one knows
And play with ploys to distract, detract?
The cawing chorus around me grows
Until no longer ‘twas safe to act
For in a world of crows we are them
Yes, we change our form in a mayhem!

Can everyone be like everyone
And enter, or maybe leave, as one
Or move as one to then be like none?
The crow within is a funny one.
Then I hopped to a side, said aloud,
“I have with me the key.” Then I bowed

And when they looked, I asked again, “Will
A key mean much if there is no lock?”
“Find the lock,” begins their chorus shrill
And a million locks are now in stock.
Thus began our tryst with countless locks
And we live our lives with countless locks.