Look after the birds

I feel motions, flatters of a silent bird flying over far oceans

As our bird presses the air down, the sound of her wings travels miles beyond before entering my body and making my imagination to shine

She doesn’t take a rest, I know this, because the vibrations never ends or bends. Someone tell me what is the purpose of all this tense?

She flies as if she is unaware of borderlines, why then the fools go to wars to guard these abstract lines? Why to fight to lock yourself up, yes that’s true, and if you believe in devils, tune your ears to hear the load sound of hoofs striking the floor when they are chanting and dancing and their nails and fingers when clinching

I’m so worried about our bird, by the time she may need to stop for a rest she may not find any safe place to make a nest

What needs to be done to undone? Can’t we simply think like a bird?

If only one could see dims of a twinkling diamond in every bird, he would never fail to remember to look after the birds