You were given a boost on the day,
You were born, when the umbilical cord
Was cut. That was independence,
The first requirement to fly.
Then you learnt after a year or so after,
You could rise up on your feet, just like the apes do,
And so you became, hell bent at walking
Just because you could.
And the next requirement to fly
Is to know that something stubborn inside of you,
Knows how to nag in every possible way,
To keep reminding you, of an unrealized dream
And this dream, the type that defines you
In hands on squalor, striving that extra mile,
Is what donates those wings, like the birds have,
Determining where and when to fly.
And all you have are weapons, you call your senses,
A redundancy of your feet and a malignancy
To shoot through air. And you don’t have
To possess a dream the size of a A380 to fly,
Even a tiny house fly would do.