I go back to my nest,
every evening,
Just to leave the nest again,
As the sun tells,
the bell has rung.

The trees and the birds,
the bees and the butterflies,
Hear to the sun,
And know where to go, and come back to,
in the fields, and the trees,
As if every night,
They don’t sleep, but plan,
like soldiers in a battle, for the dawn.

A whale spans miles,
and once in a moment,
Defies gravity, and jumps,
As if to kiss the sky, and touch the sun,
To hit the ocean,
And create a wave that travels, and travels.

Somehow,
The time manages to slip ahead,
Has it no nest to come back?
And we all gift time the present,
that, time just makes a shadow of.
And where do the waves go?

Who strikes the bell to let know
that the plans for the day are waiting,
Where do we go by waking,
moving, flying and jumping?
Who comes back and what moves on?

Last Updated: Friday, June 7th, 2019, 01:53 Author: Madhav Humagain (scimad)