Nightingale

There’s a need that’s needed as much as the actual need itself; The resistance holding you down so you don’t run like a wild tire, unfastened and broken free.

In the day it keeps your mind afar while the bits left behind breath shallow; muscles fasten tight as cable. Likely nothing but the thoughts of lists checked off and lashes of red where the half pleasure goes will make that devil, not on one but a claw on both shoulders digging nails in while he rides, bite its tongue for more than a second while your own teeth are half way through. Likely nothing will break through the toxic atmosphere that you’re struggling to build rockets for, and nothing will tell you that’s you’ve done it, even if you could, and let you feel the weightless freedom of an astronaut sucked out in to space and lost forever.

You’ll be pulled home and saved, grounded and burden by the putrid demon wrecking your posture, but you’ll always be a bird. Even in the night as you pull a blanket around you to keep the comfort of being covered, much the same way that the need covers you by day: your wings are there. You need, I need it, and we always will, but even when we concede we can still unglue our wings and beat the air with them in our own miracle of flight. The sky can fill with our old plumage and be made beautiful in the changes we make.

There’s a need that’s needed and there are those that aren’t, and the answers we fill in don’t have to be the cages we die in.

 

***Photo source: http://wiwords.com/word/nightingale ***

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