On a cold evening early winter I stumbled upon a bird in my backyard. It lay there on the ground with a broken wing; its body trembling from the cold and its eyes glistening out of fear. I carefully wrapped my hands around it and brought it into the warmth of my home wherein I gave it something to eat and drink. It then slept in front of the fireplace throughout the night, until the firewood had burned out at dawn. I woke up the next day with the bird sitting on my chest, which with its clean and crystal clear voice chirped the loveliest tones man has ever heard. As the days passed on by its tones gradually reached into the most distant angles and corners of my otherwise desolate home. It made me feel happy, something which I didn’t think would be possible, and my mind became unburdened by its mere presence. I bought a cage and placed it at the middle on one of the tables, the one which stood near the window, just so that the bird could be with me as I wrote, ate, and slept. I talked to it, I played on my acoustic guitar for it — I even dare say it became like a dear old friend — and in my many moments of sorrow and despair it sang to me, which made me happy again. By keeping the bird in the comfort of my home I felt at long last that my loneliness was over and I even dared to feel a lust for life. As such I began inviting over since long lost friends for drinking and dancing, filling my home with life. Night after night we all sat down, talking memories — sometimes until dawn — whilst the bird sat along with us no matter the hour until it fell asleep in its cage.
Months came and went, and soon summer had turned into autumn. But for each day that passed the bird became all the more quiet until that day came when it had lost its voice. It just sat in its cage, gazing out through the window up towards the sky so heavy and gray. In the middle of October I finally realized what it was gazing whilst it sat in utter silence. Up there amongst the clouds I could see them flying, heading towards their real home; how they travel on pure instinct and following the laws so wisely determined by Mother Nature. I gazed at the bird, how it sat there on the table in its cage, noticing how chained, saddened, and quiet it had become because of me. As such I opened the window and then the cage, and let the bird fly out and away.
Months come and go, and the darkness and cold is now slowly fading away. Whilst strolling around in my backyard I notice that the trees are about to bloom, which means that spring will soon be here. Glancing up towards the sky I can’t help but to wonder if that bird by any chance will take a slight detour over my house — if so only to show its appreciation of being truly free, something which all life deserves and needs to be.