it's morning, the sun so early...
or just my eyes want it to be,
fresh air in my lungs,
swelling as the sky up there,
preparing for my first flight!!
branches feels so new,
old barks falling though few,
supporting the huge ambitions,
helping me as it knew,
steering me to this flight.
I took my stand, ready to take off..
little wayward but still on path,
wings resist as the gravity calls,
falling in trajectory to the ground..
but I hold on...my rebellious flight.
the wind wails, fierce it becomes,
the sky so blue...reaching the clouds,
everything so different, the freedom exhilarating
feeling the cold, the excitement so more..
and there was I on my fearless flight..
but someone is calling...asking my attention,
my family and friends on my side..asking to return,
"you have done great, now back to home...
its the only place you have to come"
thus ended my first, my own first flight!!
2 comments:
that beautiful, you seem at first described the routine of a bird in a poetry *---*
But that first flight I believe it means something unprecedented that the person did more independently.
We live with first flights in our lives, but we must not neglect our families and friends.
I shiver at the end.
The first flight, the first achievement, it feels great, but in the end, we need to be grounded.
Nice lines.
Cheers,
Blasphemous Aesthete
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