Pinions in pursuit
Pinions in pursuit
At the edge of the woods there stands a tree,
And on its branches you shall see:
Three little birds, perched smugly together,
taking leafy shelter from the rainy weather.
These three musketeers have long been hither.
Their shared love of flight seems to tether
Their hearts in a bond of companionship,
Their minds in the solidarity of fellowship.
Persh sits at the extreme right
Her plumes blue and red and bright
Nim sits to the left
A bird both witty and deft
Dun sits in the middle
Her voice melodious like the fiddle
The three friends as they sit and chatter,
Interrupted by the gentle pitter patter,
Engrossed in deep conversation,
Face an issue of some consternation.
“I do not agree with you!”,
Exclaims Nim in some distress;
“Superiority of mind and thought
is the living world’s bequest.
Fortify your mind from weakness
And you shall see,
There is no greater power-
Don’t you agree?”
This claim made so decisively
Ruffled some feathers, quite literally.
“Well of course not!”, said the beautiful Persh,
“It is folly to thus worship the mind-
It is a device both fickle and blind.
Bound by the shackles of prejudice
Confined by walls of its own perspective.
Will it withstand the winds of doubt?
The sands of time will wear it out.”
“Now I am no narcissist for sure,
but believe me when I say;
Beauty is what can turn around
A despondent gloomy day.
Beauty is what inspires the artist-
What the photographer wishes to capture;
It soothes the eyes of the morose,
And sends the poet into rapture
Take away the waterfalls, the trees
The colors, the flowers, the calm seas.
The auroras, the sunsets, the clear moonlight
Even my beautiful plumage so bright.
What will you be left with?
A sad, gloomy planet!
No pleasure, no joy, no delight
No hope in the dreary landscape of life”
Just then Dun’s melodious voice interrupted,
And Persh’s monologue thus disrupted,
“I hate to disagree, dear friend,
But creation is what helps us transcend
the drudgery and monotony of life-
It creates art from misery and strife.
What is world without the power of creation?
Without books, symphonies and paintings.
Is there any meaning to life,
Without the joy that genesis brings?”
These contradictory opinions
Tousled the birds’ pinions.
Discord and disagreement brewed in the air,
Of a discontent the friends became aware.
The stubborn Nim flew away in temper,
As timid Dun watched and whimpered.
Vain little Persh on seeing Nim go
Took off in disgust with a bruised ego.
The three friends, now separated,
went on to pursue what stimulated
each of their individual minds
and spent in pursuit the rest of their lives
As their time on Earth drew to a close
A desire to reunite arose.
Thus the long lost friends met again,
And sat and chatted in the rain.
Though parted in discord,
They met with warmth.
Sat harmoniously and hummed a song,
Talked warmly and laughed along.
Their hearts full, they reminisced
About the friends’ old fateful tiff.
They wondered who had been right,
Whose pursuit most justified the fight?
Old and wise Nim scratching his beak,
Deep in thought, started to speak,
“These were all clever illusions-
In vain we have tried to reach conclusions.
The world has different value to different mind
You could say, each of us is one of a kind.
Pursuit of wealth and beauty and art,
While gratifying, does not last.
But what we lost in these pursuits, dear folk
Was the companionship that kept our lives afloat.
I wonder if the kinship that held us close
Is the only virtue worth this prose?”
The three friends now sat in silence,
Lamenting the years lost.
They had gained virtues and wealth
But their friendship it had cost.