it’s the wings you possess, which let you spectate how the world morphed. you were once challenged by speed wiggling, chewing on greens, yet you quench for nectar now, while you bring life elsewhere. skin ages and sheds from the cruelty of time into a refreshed new state. yet, you have never changed.

it’s the wings you possess, while in your own world which dragged you out and escape. too comfortable in your old home, dont you feel jealous seeing others of your kind different? your old skin is a testament of your story, tears are burden to your wings, winds are for you to ride and hover and feel.

it’s the wings you possess, while in some field of nature, which pulled you into someone’s life. flying into someone’s world, to the moon and back, like butter, wings freely fluttering. those little vibrations ornate, chapter by chapter, page by page, in a new ethereal reality. wings flutter in synchrony.

it’s the wings you possess, which made me realise beauty exists. i can see your passion in compassion, colours in ours. flowers bloom because of us, spring never fails to be lonely. i recognise beauty will inevitably fade, yet i recognise you are the beauty.