Wounded Bird Poem by prabhakar bhatlekar

Days move... and vanish.
Burning nights too vanish.
The wounded birdvigorousl
flapwings...for nothing.
Days watch his efforts
and nights offer him dreams.
The stoic sky say nothing
knows many shattered dreams.
Those many flights written
on his brokenmind.
The wounded bird keeps on
flapping the wings
for those fading dreams.
Days are moving as they must.
Nights lost in dreams.
Then the sky gently
bent to caress wounded
creature to tell
the ultimate truth
and push it for the
final great flight.