Erich Beck

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The Fledgeling

I saw a fledgling fall to ground
And flap and cry in vain
Before the stillness glazed his eyes
And stole away his pain,
And stole away his breath and mine:
Strange gift, this life and breath,
To struggle for, and with, and yet
To always lose in death.
And stranger gift, not just to live,
To struggle, toil and strain,
But be aware, as each day reels,
The struggle’s all in vain.

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