The little bird was summoned
To be sent back down on earth again
This time in another form
But on the same frightening land
This time she would fly
Yes there would be no excuse at all
Though no wings upon her
No legs, no memory or fear of fall
She’d have changed a lot
Though the world would still be there
Born in the atmosphere
A gust of wind, sometimes a current of air

An amazing story beautifully written. Waiting for the last poem of the series!
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Thank you.
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You are welcome.
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Each form we take, may be about the challenges we shunned in the previous forms. Only death will show whether that’s true of not.
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Grt story … Very impressive
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Thank you.
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What a beautiful story!!
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Thank you.
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