Birds of Paradise

You wish to be a bird. Tweet is a song
That like a soprano, summons the ears.
Plumage is the cynosure, the center piece
Of nature. Ornithology is not just about beauty,
It too is about your leverage to fly

Birds, they are our way of forgetting,
The weight of our existence. We are
Just searching to coast, like those
Cranes do, their feet parallel to the
Humid wind. And yet we cannot.

Bipedal means we are grounded forever.
No altitude to glimpse a bird’s eye view.
To see the beauty of a pyramid
Or to caress the force of the wind.
We can only build our nests with brick.

You grow to become fully fledged,
Until the sinews are like a sling
Moving from extension to release.
Propelling you through the saturated air
Like a plane made of feathers.

Ornithology, is how we make sense,
Why some creatures are made unequal,
Plumage painted dolls of the sky,
Those spaceships that we see, linger
So effortlessly, epitomizing the lightness of being.

We look into the sky and wish we could fly
To perch on our vantage points
To mount the altitudes we wish to, with ease.
We are always searching for Daedalus,
To escape our feet, to feel for a fleeting moment

There’s wing-speed in our arms
Untethering our feet, to lift off like a birdman,
To flee the labyrinths of our being,
To glide where no man has been before,
Dreams, which like mountain tops,

Are just hiding beneath cataract clouds.
Summoning all of you to go the extra mile,
To stitch feather by feather, the birdman’s suit,
And soar through the sun-lit sky
Like a wing-spanned comet, high on dreams.

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