A beak chipped with wear and conflict, wings tattered and shorn, we
continue on to our destination, unlike man who falters and cries in fear.
We have but one goal, to reach our destination and continue our world. A world built on flight, family, and fate. We face the winds, the chill of ice the heat of the suns glare and continue on. We spread our wings as did our ancestors for thousands of years before our birth, behind our trail our young ones, following blindly to their predestined world.
This is what we do, we migrate, we breed, we repeat and repeat, but who knows that we dream. Perhaps no one ever will.
We do, and our dream is to continue without fear of loud sounds that drop our bodies to the cold damp ground, that leave young ones alone.
Perhaps in times to come beauty and grace will send up a signal to those that
stop our path and needlessly leave our young alone to die…if we could speak we would only ask why.
I fly, I will always fly