in this scary
unshelled world,
you point your
beak and peck just once,
then think yourself an awful dunce.
When from the
confines of your juvenile ledge
hunger forces you to flee,
you jump out into the vast
unseen, unknown,
falling at first, just like a stone.
A single feather first ruffles loose,
then stiffens to attention,
but you find no food even way up high,
then stiffens to attention,
but you find no food even way up high,
and so you think, "I'll surely die!"
Down to yet
another world you plunge
and dive into a watery grave,
where wings that fly no longer swish,
but fill you up with flying fish.
but fill you up with flying fish.
And the moral of
this story is,
when your world
is too small,
or empty,
or empty,
the only thing a
bird or man can do,
is find a world that's right for you.
is find a world that's right for you.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Comments are welcome . . .