Walking down the dirt en-crusted roads all the trees and animals are the same, yet show some individuality. Each walk like mindless slaves, like me. Those with their half cut strings tied to their legs who walk into the world with half heart-ed dreams. All the birds soar in the air as they sing their lovely songs. Looking out into the world and seeing everything is were it is suppose to be, the order of this world and this forest, to live in a community. The birds always taunt us the land dwellers, how we are always grovelling in the dirt, never to touch the sky. The nice sea en-crested sky above, is where i want to be. To feel free from the birds whom we look up at but to also be one of them, the few animals who can look different, whom look better than the rest.
Being a lowly Tapia the birds stare at me with no feeling at all, they know they are different and we all look at them with envy, but they show no interest to look better for us, but for each other and only for themselves.
Tim, a very special bird always soars the highest, staring down at all the bears and rabbits walking or hoping, he would always just stay quiet thinking what he is always thinking. All the birds are always thinking never saying anything but to them selves. All the squirrels try and soar like them but never succeed. But what can i do since we are all different but the same. They are all special in my eyes and they will never change.
Whenever one lands on a branch, a rat would always come and ask, how are you? But the birds would always just fly away past the trees and into the sunset.
No comments:
Post a Comment