The birds

The sky was full of wings Hundreds upon hundreds A moving ocean above the trees A thousand hearts beating But never asking why One bird turned left And the sky changed No warning No command No voice that spoke Just a single movement A single shadow shifting through the air And suddenly Everyone followed Oh how beautiful it looked How perfect How endless A river of feathers A dance written across the heavens A song without a singer But one bird wondered Was I flying? Or was I carried? Oh the flock moved as one They rose when one rose They fell when one fell They searched where another searched And nobody asked Nobody stopped Nobody looked down Oh perhaps there was comfort in the wings beside them Perhaps being lost together Feels less frightening than being lost alone The sky was full of voices Yet none had anything to say The sky was full of wings Yet none knew where they were going Oh little bird When did you stop choosing the wind And start following it When did the flock become your home And your own direction become a stranger Oh I wonder if the first bird knew If it ever looked behind And saw a thousand birds following Or if it too Was only following something else...