The little bird sat helpless in a corner
It had fallen out of its nest,
During one of its vain attempts to fly
Which had seemed to be going for the best;
It had finally managed to flutter its wings
And take to a joyful flight;
However, the dream coming true would soon turn
Into the worst dream it had had at night.
As it soared over a few metres, it realised,
That the wind was stronger than it had thought,
Going against the wind, it tried to go on,
To keep flying it continuously fought.
But the brutal elementary force, the wind
Swept it to a lonely corner,
Where it sat now, with a leg broken,
Still with its dreams; a silent mourner.
Its relatives had forsaken it, for
It was the rule of their tribe
That if one tried to fly for dreams prematurely
It would be forgotten, its name unscribed.
But in those few metres of its flight
The little bird had tasted success;
However, with no help and a broken leg,
It could hardly make further progress.
Yet, the helpless bird continued its fight,
As time sprinted cruelly, day changed to night,
But at last it gave up, and with all its might
Towards dear Heaven, it took its flight.
Poet’s Note: There is a time for everything. Don’t be too early, neither too late, because excess of anything, even time, is bad for anyone and everyone.