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Rated: E · Poetry · Nature · #1365126
An exitentialist view on conservation. The tyranny of ego.

There was a bird in the forest
                                       It stole colours from a rainbow
As in a poem she thought she knew
She leafed through the pages to find its name
She didn’t care.

It was singing a song as she walked alongside it
                                       A threnody of sorts, a finale
Notes detached from the darkness, a part of the forest
Not the forest.

She knew that the bird might be real
With its name and nameless song

As she walked away though,
                                             The bird receded into shadow,

Never to be heard again.

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