The tiny voice of a weary bird,
Fly past your head flapping tired wings,
Its face lighted with hope
Not despairing of the miles yet to cover in the sky.
You look up to see this rare sight,
Perhaps, it might raise your beaten down shoulders,
Because faith is a fuel,
All it needs is a spark of fire.
The bird while flying hits a tree on its way,
And loses some precious feathers,
But it picks its shattered self up,
And rides higher above the spot it fell.
You marvel at this wonder in the sky,
Toes twitching trying to pin down these unfamiliar truth,
Life is throwing your way lavishly,
And like a timid child your hands shiver in excitement.
You bend and pick these lessons dropping at your feet,
Stare at them, nod your head, muster a smile
Rise with determination to rise above the earth,
Much more than your weary teacher.