The trap

The Trap

By: John Kazerooni

Once upon a time, there was a beautiful and free bird—born with wide wings and a light, joyful heart. The sky belonged to her. The trees, the rivers, the wind—all whispered her name. She roamed freely, soared over mountaintops, and rested on the tallest branches. She feasted on the ripest fruits of nature, tasted the sweetness of rain, and danced in the golden warmth of sunlight. The earth was her home, and she lived in perfect harmony with it.

In time, she grew stronger. She built a nest—not just of twigs and leaves, but of love, belonging, and purpose. There, she found family—souls so dear that no treasure in the world could tempt her to part with them. Her life was full. Not extravagant, but whole. She was content. She needed no more.

Until one day, everything changed.

While gliding over a wide and unfamiliar field, the bird noticed something strange—an extravagant display that shimmered under the sun. Below her was a feast: a dazzling array of fruits in colors and shapes she had never seen before. They glowed with an unnatural beauty. Their scent rose through the air like a spell, pulling at her senses.

She hovered, uncertain. Something deep inside her whispered, “This is too good to be true.” But curiosity grew louder than caution. Hunger—though not born of need—began to overpower wisdom.

And so, she descended.

The moment her beak touched the fruit, a sharp sound cut through the stillness—the sudden snap of a hidden mechanism. The world of freedom vanished in an instant. The sky, once endless, was now unreachable. She had been trapped.

The hunter appeared. Silent. Detached. His shadow loomed over her as he approached—faceless and cold. The bird trembled—her wings, once strong and sure, now shook uncontrollably. Her heart pounded like a frightened drum in a hollow cage. She tried to move, to flutter away, but there was nowhere to go. The air around her, once her playground, had become still and suffocating.

He reached down and wrapped his rough hands around her small, quivering body. Her feathers bristled, her chest rose and fell in frantic rhythm. She looked into his eyes, searching for a glimmer of mercy—some pause, some recognition of the life he held in his grasp. But there was none. He did not see a creature with a family, with memories, with dreams of the open sky. To him, she was only meat. A thing. A prize from a trap he had set long ago.

As he bound her and carried her toward his fire, the heat of the flames seemed to mock the warmth of the sun she once bathed in. He began to prepare his tools, the clinks and scrapes echoing like cruel laughter in her ears. Smoke rose. Wood crackled. The scent of the trap still lingered on her beak.

And all she could think of was her nest—safe and waiting.

Her family—unaware of her silence.

Her wings—once symbols of freedom, now useless in a cage.

And the fruit—still sweet in her mouth, still bitter in her heart.

She had everything.

Yet she reached for more.

And the feast she longed to enjoy…

She had now become a part of it.

This is not just the story of a bird.

It is the story of all of us.

We are born into a kind of freedom—some more than others, but freedom nonetheless. We work, we love, we build homes, we create meaning. We find moments of harmony, moments where our lives make sense.

But the world is filled with dazzling illusions—feasts that call to our weakness. Promises that sparkle. Words that soothe. Politicians offer us “just a little more”—lower taxes, incentives, discounts, special access. Yet behind their comforting words, they quietly take so much more. They erode public trust, dismantle vital services, and shift the burden to future generations. They promise to give, but what they truly do is trade us crumbs for control. Piece by piece, they take from our communities, from our freedoms, and from the very soul of society.  And so often, we accept. We nibble. We believe.

And it’s not only politicians.

Corporations, too, lay their traps.

They loan us money wrapped in invisible contracts, extend lines of credit disguised as opportunity, and market dreams in monthly installments.

Buy now. Pay later.

They offer us artificial abundance, keeping us tethered to interest, to fees, to obligations we barely understand.

They sell us comfort while quietly taking control.

Behind all these offers—both political and commercial—lie expectations, entanglements, and consequences we don’t see until we are already inside the cage.

By the time we realize what we’ve lost, the sky is already gone. Our homes, our peace, our communities—taken piece by piece, while we were distracted by fruit we never truly needed.

We are tempted not just by greed, but by fear, by comfort, by convenience. We tell ourselves, “Just this once.” But every small compromise brings us closer to the trap.

So now, we must ask:

What temptations have lured us from our sky?

How many traps are dressed as blessings in our lives?

Do we truly recognize a trap before it snaps shut—or only after it’s too late?

Are we preparing ourselves, and our children, to see beyond surface promises?

Do we pause long enough to question: Who set the table? and At what cost is this feast offered?

How can we train our minds to listen when our instincts whisper, “This is too good to be true”?

What does it take to remain content with what is real, instead of chasing what is unreal?

How do we protect the sacred—our freedom, our homes, our families—from the slow seduction of false gain?

Can we learn to see the pattern of the trap before it takes shape?

Can we resist the illusion of easy wealth and borrowed happiness?

And most importantly—

Are we willing to say no to comfort, if comfort comes with a cage?

Let us remember:

Not every fruit is worth tasting.

Not every promise is worth trusting.

Not every path leads home.

If we do not learn to see the trap before it is sprung,

we may one day find that the sky has vanished,

our nest is empty,

and the feast we longed for

has consumed us instead.

The Trap

Let it be not just a story or a parable for our time—but a warning, a mirror, and a chance to choose differently.

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