Wings of Passion

Can you imagine being able to fly,
Soaring through the air, with your own wings?
Diving down, having the time of your life?

I know I can.
I have imagined it for as long as I can remember.

Just think,
Flying has always been a wonder to humans,
But perhaps to the birds it's getting old.
The wind roughs up their feathers,
Too many crashes really beats them up,
And they are constantly attacked by other birds.
They only fly because they have to;
They really are quite sick of it.


But us humans, we would do anything for it.
We have always trying,
We have always been watching birds fly
Since the beginning of time.
We floated up in the hot air balloon,
Then we flew in the plane,
And hovered in a helicpoter.

But we'll never be birds.
We'll never be able to fly on our own wings,
And that makes me sad.
That's why I started writing.
Flying was the beginning of everything for me.

So when you are watching the birds soar,
Remember to be happy with what you are,
And know that they really don't like flying at all.
It would be best for you to stay on the ground,
Where at least you have no fear of crashing into it,
And you have a place to be sheltered from the wind.

Because flying is just a dream.
Dreams can be great sometimes.
They can help us sleep at night.
They can help us be happy in times of bleakness.
But remember:
All dreams have to end sometime.

Especially the ones that will never come true.