A Wind that Doesn’t Blow, A Water that Doesn’t Nourish

If I were a bird I would ask, of you to fly with me although I know that with me you will go nowhere. I know that you will not accompany me into a world where we could both be free and happy. The mundane overrides your love of life–  a life is meant to be living. You, however, are a statue created by your predecessors before your birth. Your philosophies are a book which keeps you bound to the paths of your family members, your educators, your robotic dreams.

You are a river that no longer flows, but rather remains situated for fear of the fall over the cliff. Your existence differs from the act of living and you are only an assembly line. Why do you live in perpetual chains, don’t you know that life doesn’t last forever?

We choose to fall from grace and we do so willingly, without thought to the repercussions of tomorrow. I wonder if you have considered whether tomorrow you will be around and healthy enough to fly like the eagle or to run like the thoroughbred. What will happen when it is too late?

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