Random Poetry: Wings


Upon a sheer cliff I stood, gazing upon the spacious world below.

In the distant, so faraway, my eyes could faintly see,

The salty-scented deep-blue seas.

Concrete structures, buildings and houses,

The stone and bricks stop

At fern and forest-green treetops.

Olive and moss, sometimes gold,

The colour of grass a silent plea

For a spring not yet to be.

Are you going to jump?

The wind whispered cautiously.

“No!,” I retorted, “I just want to be free,

To grow wings and to fly into the vast skies.

To be free of this cage, and

To write my life’s new page.”

I can’t do that.

You’re merely human,

Flying is but an illusion.


I returned once more,

To the cliff where I’d takeoff.

I come here often,

But today I was greeted with less caution.

Something has changed,

It almost feels strange.

Without a word, I advanced,

With a skip, almost like a prance.

Wha-?! The wind almost screamed,

Yet stopped, at the sight of an almost-dream.

Wings? On a human? What absurdity!

I looked back with a grin filled with untamed glee.

“See, I figured it out – the cage was imagined,

And in the same way, I can craft my wings from within.

I lived in the past, shackled and burdened – I couldn’t forgive me.

Today, that stops. I can make my own wings and takeoff. Finally free.”


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