The Agility of Birds

To have been in the circumstance of seeing
a bird break on the sidewalk and the father of the bird
weeping losing total control and mastery over
other beings willing himself away from certain subjects
trying to remain calm although the broken bird
was gliding through time without any notion
of a goal. The false notion of the agility of birds
in keeping with a search for the absolute while
only finding things, fixed things in the form of the world.
You could say something to the broken bird that the
world of the happy is different than the way the "m"
sound inhabits the body from deep within.
It is rude to confront someone with their stupidity.
One can simply think of the bone itself while
looking at a painting of a broken bird. The wings on her
back are white bones. A face without muscles.
To maintain a certain physical hygiene while
standing at the heights of despair. By nightfall the broken bird
will be dark as mahogany while people walk
around it on the way home. Safety
takes no holidays. Thanks heaps, birds.