Every Bird Has To Land Sometime



When the search for freedom moves from the external to the internal.

When I think of freedom
Why do birds always come to mind?
The rhythmic beating of wings
That swiftly leave the earth behind?

What is it about flight
That holds such deep fascination?
Taking to the air and soaring
That captures my imagination?

My gaze ever turned upward
Tempting hope and believing
I lose touch with reality
A man lost in his daydreaming

Life conspires to pluck my feathers
And inhibit my ability to fly
Feels like there's always something
Keeping me from the sky

I try to run, defy gravity
I'm desperate to take flight
Harder and harder I try
But I'm just not doing it right

Is it people's expectations
That have become such heavy weights?
Or the opinions of others
That now anchor me in place?

Is it doubts or past failures
That have become for me cages?
Or a life of undisciplined thoughts
That imprisoned me in stages?

"I just want be free"
I cry in deep frustration
Tears running down my face
Offer little consolation

There is a weariness here
That causes my bones to ache
A tiredness born of struggle
That threatens to overtake

I stare up at the clouds
That float, without effort, above
I wonder "could I make the climb?"
And soar, like a man in love?

If I could just reach them
Perhaps troubles would be left behind
If I had the strength to get there
I could leave the earth and glide

The will is there
So where then is the way?
The way to so called freedom
That eludes me every day?

They say that freedom lies
Just beyond the horizon
But an always distant reality
Somewhere beyond my analyzing

Again I stare up at the sky
But something has changed
Dark and ominous clouds approach
Thunder and lighting rage

Gone are the fluffy white clouds
And their promise of peace
There is a war in the heavens now
Winds howl like demons seeking release

The storm  bellows its protest
Lightning rends the sky
And now, strangely enough
There's not a bird in the sky

Danger, it would seem
Is not confined to the ground below
There are perils in the sky
That earth dwellers would little know

The questions beg answers
"Where then can freedom be found?"
If not in the skies above
Nor here on the ground?

Is freedom then a decision
A choice that I must make?
Less about struggle and striving
And attempts to succeed every day?

Is freedom believing
That I am loved in my imperfection?
Accepted and affirmed
Though I am filled with questions?

Is freedom knowing
My best efforts don't determine my worth?
That Someone greater than I
Gave me value before my birth?

Is freedom the realization
That I am never alone?
That even in the darkest night
There's a Light guiding me home?

Is freedom the knowledge
That words break the power of thought
That Truth breaks shackles and chains
Quicker than any battle I've fought

Is freedom the revelation
That I, the captive, may go free?
That the prison door stands open
But to walk out is up to me?

When I think of freedom
Why do birds always come to mind?
Freedom must come from within
Because  every bird has to land sometime

Every Bird Has To Land Sometime © 2015 by Kris Peterson. All rights reserved.

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