There on the wind
Is that a bird or just an image
Am I dreaming of something
Is anything real here

The woods by my house
They sway in the breeze
Picturesque in this dream
They shake their leaves as they die

The clouds are drifting
They are white on this gray background
Fluffy but wet as they go
They shake and they cry for the Earth

Is anything here real
It all looks like a dream to me
The birds are flying past
The wind blows across my face

Look at you my
little bird, have you
been pierced by a
sword?
Are you broken,
afraid?
It fasinates me how
you just. sit there.
Did you forget about
your wings?
The sky is your
home
For **** sake,
take flight.

They say, to be a bird is to be free
But have they ever considered how the birds feel?
Do they feel free?
They’re stuck in the same cycle every day
Don’t they feel tired or bored?
Their parents did the same things before
And their parents before them
Their just repeating
Again and again
Are birds really free?
Stuck in their cycle
With no change

From where did I come from?
From whence did I arrive.
Was I 3, 4, 5, or 6 when my eyes could see things weren't alright.
Did the earth put me here to brings peace?
Does the bird think about its past nest.
Will the sea rise.
The sun explode.
And to where do I put my parents to rest?
Will I regale my children with tales of valor?
Will I curse their existence.
Do I deserve to be alive right now?

The bird does not let its past nest hold it down.
The sea will find a home somewhere else.
And I will be, just here. Breathing deeply, to make sure I'm still alive.

The moon poured over the
       moors
                     and the night-birds
howled                through the wind.
The stars shuddered in their
midnight sky                  and whispered his
name amongst themselves.

He could do nothing but swallow
his tears in her memory.