He wasn’t alone, but he felt lonely
He wasn’t hated, but it was hard for him to feel loved
He wasn’t static, but it felt like he wasn’t moving
He breathed, but felt himself suffocating
He puffed his feathers, but felt more naked
He wanted to fly further, but could never find wind beneath his wings
There wasn’t any light outside, but the shadows within seemed larger
The world went silent, but it sounded like it was screaming
He kept quiet, but couldn’t hear his heartbeat
Nature grew, but it seemed further away
Could floating be called swimming?
Could looking inward show him the horizon?
Only time could lead him to the end of the river
Only he could decide whether to go with, against, or along the current
His wings might have been clipped, but that was a chance to learn where to roost
His song might have been silenced, but that was a chance to learn how to listen
His colors might have seemed faded, but that was a chance to appreciate all the shades of gray
Hope is trusting time while trying to make the most of it
And whether you believe in it or not, tomorrow always comes
So, what will you do with it little bird?
Miguel Xavier –Licenciatura em Biologia
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