On making a living
(wondered while gazing at the horizon)

Amidst these days, it seems that my fellow-birds (humans) are perturbed by a suffocating query: how will I make a good living?
This latent question, strangler of our naturalness and our insightful creativity, is, indisputably, the cage in which we (the birds) are imprisoned, and which stops us from flying. Then, of course, as it always happens, resignation becomes the only attractive path; a path which invites us to conform to the bird-seeds provided within the prison-bars that delineate mediocrity and the lack of reciprocity before Life’s generosity.
This shaping query, which emanates from our dread to discover the inexhaustible possibilities of Living, and the extensions of Life, makes us (the birds) forget that our flight will expire, our yearns, and so will our hunger.
And please, feel free to judge the composer of these words! He is well aware that what is conveyed herein, is not a familiar message to the non-flying bird (the ego).
On the other hand, congruous with the interplaying winds of creation is the bird that, despite the fact that it could get lost, and in spite of a «nurturing» cage, it did not refuse to spread its wings, but rather refused the invitation for a meaningless existence; an invitation to be just another ornament of the well-arranged enclosure, of the birds.
These universes also belong to us, the birds! What could we really have to lose?
The other little Birds, which are our teachers, always fly (well, except those which are put in cages for the perverse distraction of humankind): some get lost, some never return to their nest, some fail to find food, and some realize exemplary feats; but none, none! refuses to spread its wings.
So what are my fellow-birds doing within the bars (eight to five, that is the reality of the system, I need to eat, it is impossible, I need to be someone important, life is hard; conformity, mediocrity, repetition, fear) of that detestable self-destructive cage?
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In the flight of little Birds we can observe the art of circling the skies, in the dolphins, the art of sailing the waves; in the voice of the crickets we hear the night-time song, and in humans… no, that is not art; but we can appreciate in them a great attempt to survive!
