I wonder how it feels
To rise up against gravity,
To be at an altitude,
Higher than any building level.
Surely the view from up there
Must be spectacular to behold.

It's one thing
To fly in an airplane,
It's another
To fly by ourselves.
We 'fly' in both cases,
But the latter is something else.

When we think about flying,
We usually think about birds;
When we think about birds,
We usually imagine
Their pointy beaks,
Their feathery bodies,
Their tiny legs,
And most of all,
Their iconic wings.

Wings are for flying,
A very well-known fact.
The only function,
We all presumed.
Take it away and they'll be
Nothing but mere accessories.

'Flightless' and 'birds'
Do not belong together.
When next to each other,
They create huge 'disasters'.
Penguin, ostrich and kiwi,
Three questionable entities.

They are unable to fly
Simply because they don't need to.
They were born this way
Simply because it's best for them.
They are able to fit in their habitat
Simply because of what they are.
They are on the brink of extinction
Simply because things have changed
And they can no longer adapt well.

They may be 'disastrous',
But they are not disgraceful.
They will always be themselves
From the beginning till the end.
We humans on the other hand,
Are erratic and always changing.

If there is one admirable thing
That we can learn from them,
It would be to never lose sight
Of our identities,
Of who we truly are,
Of our own invisible pair of wings.
Wings not for flying,
But for living.


by Woon Zhen