"The Wings" by Aris Balu

White wings, black wings, grey wings

All fall to the ground, all feast on the same grains

Their wild eyes, like the wind, touching the same thing

The least they could do was watch, for their wings may be magnificent, yet they lacked the strength to bear the pain

It was the loss of a friendship, the burden of understanding how fragile life is

It was the sight of their insignificance to the everlasting nothingness

For they cannot soar beyond the place where the unknown meets ignorance

And even then, their hunger wins once again

White wings, black wings, grey wings

All fly another day, seeds in their belly, all minds are empty