What is the purpose of a bird?
To fly? To eat? To breed?
Is its life a thing of choice
Or else of merely need?
If its purpose is to fly
But, hatching from its shell
Is born without the wings to fly
Can life be ever well?
If its purpose is to eat
But lacking seed or prey
Can the bird starve nobly
As nature has its way?
If its purpose is to breed
But has no living mate
Is the bird worthwhile still
Despite its desperate fate?
And what of birds within their egg
Afraid to face the light
For fear of life without a mate
Or lack of food or flight,
Who lay inside their egg, so warm,
Who never hurt or cry?
Are they blessed who never live
For they shall never die?
What is the purpose of a bird
Who cannot do a thing?
To live in stillness silently
Or else, perhaps, to sing.
The Daily Travesty 