Wounded and battered,
I lay on the ground,
Blood oozing from my bruises.
The fall shattered my wings
Broke my bones to pieces,
Burned me to ashes.
The ground became my grave,
The earth took my last breath,
Blessing the trees with it,
Blooming the flowers.
The clouds swelled,
Pouring down their showers,
As if weeping for my demise.
Even if the world didn't see me,
Nature whispered— I was a blessing.
So I did not live in vain.