Flight and Nest

The birds

With white wings and 

Black beaks

Have shown me 

The way.

Flying high in the sky

And soaring above the 

Humiliating towers

Passing, 

Each hurdle.

They say :

O the flying humans 

Rotating and revolving;

Do not try to fly.

When I come to my nest

I see the flying birds

My head up,

And the neck aches.

Painful it is 

To track 

Any motion.

You may fly

But do not think of flying.

Fly, 

Wings open

In reality.

And when you come home 

Look

Trees as trees 

And the moon as the moon.

Homes are for rest

Not to fly.