Twig
I hold a twig in my hand
It flys away in a bird's beak
It's purpose is shrouded in mystery
Nature can turn against us
But it's our only hope
Of survival in a uncaring world
Life is precious and relevant
But we question its existence
Why do birds fly?
Are they the reason we fly?
Question outnumber answers
It's a fact of life
Which we don't fully understand
Maybe the bird knows.
A Bird sketch!
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Art et Poésie au Crayon Livre suivant (Art and Poetry with a Pencil Part 2)
PoetryThese are rhymed and free form poems that express my thoughts on art, science, philosophy, life, love, politics and death as told from a scientist's point of view in some cases. This is poetry book No. 8
