Unveiling trends that long started trending,
these flying flamingos with the longest beaks,
in a world where the flight takes off, while
the foot chasers idle, doing the usual, seeing
nothing. Will they catch the birds with the
longest beaks that left us looking at ourselves,
in the ripples of an already moving lake,
stirred by the angel that passed silently,
as the healer yelled it is time to dip in,
and remove our scabs.
Dare to start and follow the species rare.
Ask not if you are the breed. The answer
will come in unimaginable takings that will
take place, when the birds ask you why your
beak is short and weak. For is you take off
nobody will see your short beak, and know
you are not part of the pack.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem