This Man

Little bird upon a branch
did look to me all askance,
as to wondering what I was,
I couldn’t answer, just because.
In tiny eyes it was indeed
this man, this soul, that he did see,
But as reflection in a lake
disturbed I stood, my heart did break.
A place, the bird, did have in world
whereas this man seemed simply hurled.
And swap his place, this man, he would
but bird did fly before he could.
There is no moral to this tale
no point, no wish, no holy grail,
although perhaps this man would say
if arms were wings he’d fly away.

10 thoughts on “This Man

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