Living in the Cage

I feel like a lioness in a cage. Rare. Spirited. Endangered. Alone. The bars are just wide enough for me to get my paws through; to reach for the freedom on the other side; to feel the fresh air and the sunlight around me. To know I can run freely on the other side. However, it is a cage. No room to stretch. No place comfortable to rest. Confined to a world where others think I should conform. They poke. They prod. They dangle keys in front of the cage as a form of control and power. They know, as do I, that's not were I belong. Nobody does. They also know that the lioness in the cage, while confined temporarily, is always a free spirit. She remembers what it's like to roam the land, interact with the pride, feel the sun and the rain on her skin, drink from the rushing river, and rest under a shady tree. The question is, will you be one of the few people with the key that opens the cage or one of the spectators?

The answer...everyone is a spectator and their are no keys. Lay your head down Ang and forget about the key.