The Lone Bird and the Silent Moon
On a quiet winter night, a lone bird soared through the vast sky, its silhouette dark against the pale glow of the full moon. The wind whispered through its feathers as it glided, wings outstretched, searching for something it couldn’t quite name.
For years, the bird had flown alone, believing that solitude was freedom. It had seen the world from above—towering mountains, endless oceans, and golden fields stretching far beyond the horizon. Yet, despite all its journeys, an emptiness remained within its heart.
As the bird flew higher, the moonlight bathed it in a soft glow, casting a long shadow over the earth below. Looking down, it saw a small flock of birds resting in the trees, huddled close together. They chirped softly, sharing warmth, sharing stories.
The lone bird hesitated. It had always prided itself on its independence, believing that flying alone made it stronger, wiser. Yet, in that moment, it wondered—was freedom truly found in solitude, or was it in having someone to share the sky with?
A gust of wind rushed past, shaking the bird from its thoughts. It turned its gaze back to the moon, steady and unchanging. The moon had always been there, watching over the world in silent patience. It never flew, never wandered, yet it was never alone. The stars surrounded it, and the earth reached for its light every night.
Realizing this, the bird understood something it had ignored for so long. Strength wasn’t just about flying alone. It was also about knowing when to rest, when to seek warmth, when to share the journey.
With a final glance at the glowing moon, the bird tilted its wings and turned toward the trees below. Tonight, it would not fly alone. And perhaps, just perhaps, that was what true freedom felt like.
MyGallery.com
0 Comments