a little bird told me, there is more to love
than just the birds and the bees
i flew into a rage at the mere suggestion
but as time flew by, pondered, comprehended
not everything has to be done on the fly
the early bird might get the worm
but the patient bird acquires the butterfly
i couldn't fly by the seat of my pants
though, the migration path would soon provide
a second, third, fourth, ongoing chance
“don't be a birdbrain and fall for the fly-by-night”
many said, “think logically”
but that is equivalent to eating like a bird
from the plate of perpetual gratification
throw intuition in the mix
and one obtains the bird's eye view
so i flew in the face of skeptics
and ruffled their feathers
“if it ain't chickens it's feathers
this will never fly” they still say
those birds of the same feather that flock together
but birds of the one spirit stay joined even when distant
a bird in the hand may be worth two in the bush
but to become free as a bird i'm willing
to take a chance to see even pigs fly
lastly, i'll quote the upanishads, so pardon me
two golden birds live on the selfsame tree
the fruit-eating ego and the Soul, light as a feather
we're told to keep the two distinguished
but why, when by killing two birds with one stone
you confirm that the lovebirds
are made of the same one eternity?
