|Image Courtesy: John's Consciousness|
Disrobed by the vicious winds stood there, the naked sky, where myriad creatures eyed her from the dark, which they even relish repeating the entire night.
While the dark sky was lit only by the lightning that struck unusually often on a strange evening, I was journeying back home. Stood on the opposite entrance of the railcar not being bothered by the riffraff, I let the mind take a stroll, on the silent streets of random thoughts.
A flock of feathers were flapping quietly in the abandoned sky. Missing the last rays of the Sun a dozen pairs were journeying home under the carbon black canopy.
The happy thoughts of being back at home, sleeping under the warmth of a fellow bird, forgetting their lives as birds, sleeping through the entire night, waiting for the sun rays to increase their blood temperature besides announcing their time of flight the next morning, hindered the perils en route.
Near blind, compared to Eagles, aren't we?
If the flock can't escape even our blessed sight, what chance do they stand against the hawk-eyed?
Not necessarily be a light speed missile but the simple throw of a stone could tear their wings and crash them down in no time.
Clutched under the claws of the mighty eagle, whose glistening eyes reflect the fear of death of the helpless captive, wouldn't they submit to their bloody fate, the vulnerables.
Spinning like a crashing plane whose tail's on fire, from the birds, my mind fell back into the vacant skull, striking a chord that made me wonder,
'Vulnerables, aren't we all, for either an eagle or another sea gull?'