The Swan

The swan on the lake
Looked up with heart ache
The other birds flew
And regardless of his wings
The water was all he knew

Could he fly?
Was the air safe?
What if he were to die?
Heavy were his fears
Many were his tears

But the lake wasn’t enough
Seasons change
And life became tough
Freedom was his
So far but in flying range

Sad and depressed
To the lake he confesssed
But in joy the lake beamed back
To his anger
In playful jest

Too much he cried
As he spread his wings
His fears he’d not denied
He’d just let them go
Inviting freedom from the Universal flow

He flapped and flapped
Threw away his comforting life maps
And felt his feet leave
The cosy life traps
He flew

David James Horn ©

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