“Life is too heavy without wings,”
said the mother to her hatchlings.
“Then why are only some of us
made to fly?”
Asked one precocious little guy.
“We fly so others will be inspired.”
Replied his mother as required.
“Wouldn’t it rather make them despair
Since they can only taste the air?
It is ever just out of reach.”
Began a sibling as if to preach.
“But that’s just it.” Her mother replied.
“A taste is enough to make them glide.
They build kites and paper planes.
They dream big inside their brains.
Once they see these leave the ground,
Hope in their hearts does abound.”
“But how can Hope break gravity?”
Asked one tyke quite cheekily.
“Ahhhh my child, it’s just the fuel.
They add to Hope another tool.
One they call Passion or Desire.
It burns within, hotter than fire.”
“It burns them, but does not consume?”
Fired off ‘ere she could resume.
“Oh it consumes their every thought
And burns away until is wrought
the Dream in Life, wings of their own.
That my child is how they’ve flown.”
“But to us it comes naturally!”
“Yes my child, but can’t you see?
We can only master the air
They can fly, child, ANYWHERE!”