Of the potential of each life, infinite paths to be picked, only one can be picked |
High in the spring tree, Above the busy bees, Past the Lilies unseen, Lies a nesting bird to be, Sleeping in his home of Evergreen He wakes to the world’s breeze Blue bird born to fly Born with a plethora of potentiality Blue bird stands spry Bewildered by his limited reality For his potential must be given up For the sake of action For the sake of finding self’s stuff - He must Decide between seeing pretty lilies or the busy bees Decide between singing or building Decide between the places where he may fly - The Blue bird’s choices are his own stride, He seeks thyself in the world’s ride He himself, His choices his, Blue bird jumps off his nesting He sings in the wind’s breeze, “To be free!” Wherever he goes, Whatever he does Choose, Choose he must Before the day’s great end Else risk a day wasted Idle more and a week gone Then a month gone, then a year gone Then a life of none! The Blue Bird’s time is not forever If his time is not made his Then that potential missed Haunts him with the words “Flew? He never!” Yet, When faced with endless possibilities Faced with beauty’s incomprehensibility Blue bird will, still, sings Even if no one hears him |