If you think that I envy, you haven't a clue,
for I'm too proud of me, to wish to be you.
My body's confined by the Dome's walls of stone,
but my mind's flying free; free to live, love or loathe.
To share with whom I will, what I want, when I wish,
the Dome is a bowl, but my soul's not its fish.
Unlike you, dear friend, trapped atop the ground.
Your mind is stuck there, despite what we've found.
Mistrust and greed, all you can feel.
You live for yourself, alone, heart cold as steel.
You see not the joy of flight, blessing of birds.
It's your loss, so I'll take flight with these parting words;
Slithering through the dense brush, quite content,
you think yourself king of the world, yet forget;
It is better to have flewn, to have lived, and to fall,
then to never have truly seen the world at all.