What It Whispers.

fly.

Far away in a green land,
Flew a beautiful bird with grace,
Morning it flew to seek provision,
Evening it returned with its share
And it fed the ones it loved.
It was a mother too,
And a new one in it.
She tended the egg carefully and protected it,
Shielding from wind and warming it constantly,
One day the egg hatched and the bird stared at the world with innocence,
To the little bird, world was indeed a beauty
Beyond the darkness within,
Colour sure was alluring.
As days passed by
The bird learnt worldly lessons,
So far the mother hadn't taught anything wrong,
To the bird world was one little good place,
Where everyone around you shall love you,
And creations are lovers in all forms,
Hate was a perception,
A deluded term that withheld a history,
Apart from that everyone had inherent goodness,
And to see a teardrop was indeed a misery to all.

But little do the new birds that fly know...
Caged ones never live the beauty to the fullest,
Neither do they see the cruelty.
To them world is a ball of delusion.
And yes the bird isn't really a bird,
Rather a human physique that craves today, that it knew more...
......................................................

The innocent bird begins to fly,
Not so innocent perhaps,
A little known,
Mother sure does warn,
And eyes sure do look,
The ears do hear.
So he does know.
As he flies above the oceans,
Flapping its wings
Gloriously feeling the wind
Happiness being the aura around and within,
He feels a sense of belongingness,
Also now he knows about the predators,
No one had told him that happiness wasn't constant though,
Nor about how the predators shall vary
Some kill, some stab, some shoot, some hurt, some leave you in agony,
But there are some who hurt you to devour
But eventually turn tender.
The bird fell in the hands of all those who aimed to devour,
Confronted and battled against all enemies,
Shielded itself from losing itself to those who didn't deserve to have it
The ones who hurt to love it
Shan't love.
The ones loved to hurt it
Shan't love either.
What for do you love to see tears in those eyes
That kept burning for you?
What for shall you like to see agony and fear in the eyes
That had nothing wrong to do to you?
The bird questioned and grew wise on its own,
Fought against the darkest of storms,
Lived amidst the heartless predators, frightening thunder and lightning, torturous rains that made him shiver to the bones,
The bird fought it all.
And stood there proudly
As a maker of its own home.

Not as an immortal would the bird live,
The bird will wither way one day like his mother dearest,
But he will pass away as a known soul,
As the one who lived through it all,
The one who has scars that are a beauty in itself.
..............................................

As a grown piece of glory
Now it stares at its own little bird
Hatching to see the world.
This time it was his turn to question,
Should I teach my little one of the cruelty of this merciless world
Or should I teach of the goodness of merciful heavens that embrace you.
You see the ones who tend you refrain to show you the appearance of venom,
But nevertheless they do tell you how its consumption can kill you
They dont tell how venom seeps through in all directions,
For they fear that you'd know the cruelty too much
That you'd miss out on the sweetness of honey.
Mistaking every other thing of beauty for a wolf in a sheep's clothing.
The birds are let to fly with its wings
To see the world as it is
To draw lessons from scars
And memories from embracing the heavens filled with stars.
The wise bird now will not teach the little one of the cruelty
Because to protect yourself from being devoured
You must know the predator,
And you'll never know who could it be
Perhaps thyself. The worst form.

Let the goodness prevail,
Let the warnings be given
But shun not the light of innocence before it could see the glory of gleaming light.
Darkness is temporary after all.
Teach to hold onto light even in the darkest of times,
And every bird shall fly gloriously
And shut its eyes contently,
And go back to the One who created it.
...................................