Holding a bird so tight,
not to lose it.
Hesitation sets in,
thinking it will die.
Losing its love,thinking you have the intention to kill it.
Holding a bird loosely,
not wanting to kill it,
again losing its love,
with it thinking you have no intention of keeping it.
You try to hold it with little grip,
but its inability to flap its wings freely,
causes a sense of doubt, uncertainty and unwillingness in you keeping it.
I watch you fly to a nest.
I believe is not just comfortable but more than willing to receive you.
Difficult though but necessary and surmountable.
I guess my resilience is well amplified by my willingness to wait.
First attracted to your feathers, and not just hearing, but listening to you chirp.
Your chirp further changing my focus,
not the harmony, not the Melody,
but the symphony.
I guess me wanting to see you happy,
is enough motivation to see you fly to your utopia.
Though it hurts,
knowing your destination and that you’ll be happy,
settles the storm within me.
The basis of my thoughts
Kube is served