the little bird dreamed of soaring far beyond the wasteland,
cradling a handful of beans within its fragile heart.
for these beans were its hopes, its dreams, its very essence—
a treasure more precious than the rarest gems.
it guarded them with unwavering devotion,
shielding them from icy winds that sought to steal their warmth.
it carried them as though they bore the weight of the sky,
praying that one day they’d multiply—
twice, thrice, an endless bounty of possibilities,
a garden of miracles from this meager handful—
beneath a boundless, forgiving sky,
far from the barren wasteland,
in a lush field, it dreamed...