Several tiny birds have hopped near my outdoor cafe seat. The moment they’re close enough to touch, a handful of these miracles glide away.

For want of wings, we strapped cloth and sticks
to our backs and jumped from high buildings
For want of flight, height, to soar
we risked our lives, until one day
a seat in an airplane became common
Our wish to be weightless, to eat a piece of sky
has not changed
Now we see, this rising above
speeding through clouds, is an internal act
a spirit journey
The physical plane will always have to land

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