Insightful flight

I wrote this poem when I was 15 years old and it was a time of deep observation in the world for me. I am 19 now and it really relates to a lot of whats happening energetically at this time.Enjoy 🙂

Look says a father to his son

No not there,in the sky

Way up high

The son looks and sees a falcon but says nothing

You see that, boy oh boy that sure is something

Dad…its just a bird-its nothing-its not a miracle the boy says

Show me a flying human and then it’ll be nothing-but until then

Boy oh boy that sure is something

So majestic and graceful as they fly

Riding the thermals in the vast sky

On the ground we roam, for we’ve made it our home

But they have made the sky into artwork

For they dance with the clouds and the sun

Way up high in the vast sky

They are masters of flight

Is that so father?

Yes it is,but you think their nothing so why bother

The father lets out a sigh and just stares at the sky

Silence falls between the two and time passes by

Until finally the boy takes a long ook at the sky

the boy breathed in the sky

He understood what his fathers message was

He understood it all just by taking time to look at the sky

They are not just birds said the boy

What?The father asked with eyes full of joy

They are messangers just as much as they are masters of flight

And studying their flight has given me some insight

Each flap of their wings are as natural to them as walking is to us

They glide in the sky as smoothly as can be

Floating upon the thermals with ease

They fleet time carelessly in the sky

Allowing time to pass them by

Nothing matters but their flight

And yet they can still sense everything all around them

They even feel our presence on the ground below

How so?

Surely it is because of what the know

And to this i say- No!

They just do something we dont

They open their souls to mother nature

Allowing her to dwell in their very core

They aren’t concerned about a thing but their flight

And in flight mother nature begins to write

Mother nature begins to write in a language not seen in plain sight

In the language of the soul she makes her message known

She speaks of times of the past and of times to come

Things that exist outside of time

She calls us back to her

She calls us back to her

She promise us what was once ours

What was once ours she promises once again

She promises us…

The boy looks into his fathers eyes and they both say




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