He does not fly or laugh or play;
His thoughts the same, most every day.
To a simple life he does adapt.
Though his life would seem a handicap

He has no wings,
he dreams no dreams ,
He has no height, he craves no light,
Don't lift me up......why should I fly,
Leave me alone, don't ask me why.
To be lifted high, is to be unreal
I see in inches, I know to feel.

I like my security, what's known to me,
Surely with my eyes, is all to see.
I don't know iridescent color
that flying wings could be,
I only know the cumbersome grind
I suffer constantly.

What use have I of nectar sweet,
when leaf juice here is all I eat,
To remain the same, is my decide,
I like this safety, I can hide.

You tell me a story, that there is more
I am of earth.... naught else in store.
Angel wings and free fall flight,
I want what's real, my only light.

A transformation.....it's not for me,
I can't cope with mystery
And unknown things I cannot see

But...if.....I muse about new life
and being 'born anew',
Is it only for a chosen few.

To see unseen, must be some view,
A whole different world
For me, be true.

It would be a miracle, to give me wings
to set me free so I could fly
and fly and fly and fly
Eternally

Soft Whispers from
Derry's Heart Poems © 2005
heartwhispers@iinet.net.au

Listen, I tell you a mystery:
We will not all sleep, but we will all be changed-
in a flash, in the twinkling of an eye,
at the last trumpet.
For the trumpet will sound, the dead will be raised
imperishable and we will be changed.
Where, O death is your victory?
Where, O death is your sting
1 Corinthians 15:51-53,55