Forlorn he is and trembles,

His breath grows profound,

Sorrow echoing as in vales,

Heart hushed with no sound.

He knows not his path

Nor his eyes see a trail.

Crippled with fate's wrath,

A solitary bird now to wail.

At nest, look his moist eyes-

Just adorned with memories.

Perhaps a utopian world of lies

And no tear falls on trees.

Far at the end of horizon,

Sees that silhouette against the sun's glare.

In hope,he flaps his wings.But,

He is too weak to fly,

He is too weak to fly....