Contemplating freedom, does a bird in a cage really care? A brief solitary lifetime spent surrounded by steel wire, the creature knows no other life. Instinct says you are a bird and meant to fly. But reality has clipped your wings and now you know no other life but this. Open up the door and gaze out, frozen to your perch, fearful of the great expanse before you. Too long you’ve chafed at fate that bound you to this place. Made to sing to brighten the morning for masters who bring you seed and water. The very idea of being free is foreign to your tiny brain and how can you contemplate what you’ve never had?
Now I ask myself to contrast and compare two basic situations so dissimilar yet so alike. Am I ready to spread my wings or will I stay rooted to this perch?