The little bird gets pushed out the nest aggressively with no chance of resistance, no choice. It is thrown like a soulless rock into the sky, like a punch of death at the face. Life as it ever existed vanishes and a new form is aligned in time that expands momentarily when gravity takes a toll and grabs its soul pulling it down into the depths of the abyss.
Out of a sudden, instinctively, the wings open wide, lacking control as the movement has already been determined to happen, engraved into the DNA along with the right time to be triggered. The little bird flies alone, away from love, sympathy, and compassion. It is its first encounter with the path to demise. Relentless. Cold and humid like is being buried into earth. At the moment just before landing on the promised land, it wonders “What is this? Is this life? Have I already been perished?
Days pass by, months and years dissolve as time melts away into emptiness. As memories and survival become the two most valuable things, the world changes. Every day is like a little funeral.
Time, unravels and gets absorbed into sand. Formless, shapeless, soulless.
Cruel, as we were destined to witness our loved ones slowly wither, reflecting one’ s soul into the other’s. Always alone, till the grave.
One day It looks back, hoping this was just a bad dream. Hoping that its mother will open her arms again. But she isn’t there. It wants her to be there but the sand has swallowed her. The faceless Gods have taken her away, forever. The essence of living is bittersweet. We adhere escapism in a series of declined assumptions.
Nothing beyond that.
The little bird opened its wings and flew away. It marched in the air with confidence while questioning life.
With eyes sewn shut.
It used to follow its mother in order to navigate the world. But after leaving home, it had to cut them open wide. And then, it saw the world. It saw the golden hour sun falling on the green leaves as silk, standing there and dancing altogether in formation over the light breeze.
But It also saw death. The picture of disintegrating flesh, crashed over a bendless piece of tarmac. It saw the TRUTH.
The warm embrace of the mother’s wings became nails in the coffin of disillusion.
And from that moment on, it would never be the same.
