Small and plain…moving at a crawl
I look at the beauty around me –
The colors, the textures,
The beautiful creatures with their wings spread wide,
Seemingly floating on the air.
What is the use of comparing myself to those?
I, who am nondescript, awkward, ordinary at best.
The longing I have to share their freedom,
The glory, their fragile colors…..
So I will hide.
I will wrap myself in solitude
And cause my soul to sleep
And forget how forgettable I am.
It feels like death……
But welcome, so I die in peace.
And then…..as time passes,
I find my shroud of death too cramped,
Too dark, to confining,
And I struggle to free myself from the shroud.
The struggle is long and painful –
But still I endure, feeling compelled to expose myself again.
The shroud crumbles and shreds around me at last.
And……where is the plainness?
Those creatures of the sky?
Fires of flight, with outspread wings of beauteous glory?
I am one of them!