Inside and Out
We envy birds
but what can we really say
of the long flight,
the rough air against eyes and the hungry months at sea.
They who fly must force themselves on
or fall underfoot.
We see nobility of plumage,
the quest for height, angelic blue,
all from the outside.
The aesthete in us gazes
but does not feel with bird
the leaden weight of its freedom.
Bird feels but does not see itself,
lives only with land in view.
Are we really so strong
that we could soar with aching wing
and sing still of the moon,
of bright air around us,
uplifting on updraft arms,
of how it is in heaven
to dwell among stars?
____________________________
Colin
Original first line was "Man envies bird" but I changed it in case it
sounded sexist. Thoughts?
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