A bird blue sang daily a melody of its own
unbothered of snail’s chants or peacock’s dance,
eyes fixed on the golden sun which sat at a distance,
he sang songs in praise of that magical perfection.
Days passed by and spring turned into winter sour
blue bird shivered at every gallant gale that passed by.
Yet, he never stopped to sing for love of undiluted glamour
sight of which, made sky-colored body warm and dry.
Angel, appeared one night, pleased with his love
“Dear singer of goodness! you have two choices ahead:
Lose your wings so you can delve eternally on this globe
or fly for once to sun and loose your feather-decked head.”
Bluebird eyes sprinkled with tears of joy replied:
“I never had a choice , o dear messenger of love,
for every breath I left is for the perfect being red.
Can I ever go back to lowly ground for my sustenance?”
Snail looked up when the blue birds wings fluttered,
“Ha! he is gone for good, flying to sun in winter
sooner than my first step, he shall be dead in cold
none to part a tear nor to praise his life in wonder.”
Blue bird with zealous fervor flew towards sun unseen,
lo! at other end stood the crown decked sun waiting.
“Come to me o beloved and rest in my abode sparkling clean
while I sing you to sleep, sans guilt and undue suffering.”