The strength to brave the winds and soar above,
To the clouds and wind it then makes love.
It is born winged,
But is scared and hinged,
And then as the gentle breeze welcomes its first flight,
It looks up and prays to that eternal light,
And leaps away into the arms of self belief,
And then nothing can stop that beautiful leap.
It flies, yes flies higher and higher away,
To a kingdom where night merges with the day.
No earthly boundations caging its dream,
Just miles and miles of open realms.
But when the flight is done,
When all the races have been run,
When the world spins into a circle complete,
When Apollo grudgingly drags away his fleet,
When the day falls drowsily into the arms of night,
When suddenly stars burst out into the sky and blink bright,
The little bird doth head back home,
For only there it can learn and not be alone.
The sky might be its territory,
The flight its dream and victory,
But if it never comes down, how will it see,
What heights it reached, what bird it can be,
The bird who sings or the bird that flies,
But surely a bird that with this world has ties.
i might be a bird that flies high,
soars into the infinity of the sky,
but not a bird that loses its sight,
But one that finds its way back home each night.
