I once knew a beautiful bird
With many wings of many kinds
each wing, had feathers few
each feather, of a different color
The wings flapped differently, but always took the bird ahead
Soon, they discovered their purpose, and strived to fulfill
Seldom helped, by others, seldom on their own
Together they flew, towards the common goa
One such wing, very close to my heart
had feathers ten, very strong
Without even one of which, the wing was incomplete
And the wing ensured none would be left behind in its glorious flight
The first feather, the heart of the wing
the one on whom the rest relied
The one who had his own demons to fight
the one who came out strong every single time
The one who grew quiet in the dark
and danced when any other wing won a reward
He was the one who became the life of the wing
he couldn’t have predicted, but his glory was meant to be
The second feather, was small at sight
perhaps the most crucial, when the wing took flight
He ensured the bird never fell
When the bird soared, his name would we tell
He cared not for fame or glory
he cared for his work and that was his story
The smartest feather, I know of
Slightly averted to others, as most geniuses are
The third feather, even quieter
ever so focused, the silent striver
The others seldom forgot of his presence
Until his need arose, when he rose to the occasion
The one who knew, where the path headed
and effortlessly strode, to the goal selected
He cared little, for others and opinions
his faith on himself, was his guide and redemption
The fourth feather, was an unusual one
with doors welcome, he valued his moments alone
His path unclear, he strived to find
never wasting a moment, never willing to lag behind
He had better friends, outside the wing
for the wing was never, avert to friendly kin
Not much we knew, about that feather dear
but we stood together, in all success and failures
The fifth feather, the most colorful
the best at his job, the most joyful
He built his place and was proud
when he set his mind on a target, he would let himself drown
He understood the wing, the bird and the flock
never restricting himself, to any one accord
He dipped himself, in every color
and came out flying, adding himself to the bird
The sixth feather, my favorite
the one who led and gave the wing direction
The one humble, to not acknowledge his power
the one intensive, to use it when required
The one to whom each other feather was indebted
the one who never asked anything, in return of his blessings
The one, whom I miss the most
the one, whom I know will shine in every place he goes
The seventh feather, the most innocent
never failing, to bring a smile to a sad face
A child at heart, afraid of monsters under his bed
a man discovering, the only reason to fear was fear itself
A friend helpful, in every time of need
an ear which lent itself, whenever it could heed
Someone whose face still doesn’t fail to bring a smile
someone, parting from whom I’d regret every single time
The eight feather, was a feather in the cap
the most beautiful, whom the bird kept for last
An artist, with tricks for every party
be it dance or painting or calligraphy or photography
Excelling in each, he made art his life
music, acting, fashion, design, guided his light
He devotes himself in pursuit of his passions
reminding, you can never fail if you never choose the second option
The ninth feather, a dirty one indeed
the multi-tasker with tricks in his sleeve
He spent his time for fun and work
and failing to prioritize, he pursued them together
The devil, he was quick to a temper
the wing helped, to calm down his anger
The cutest one indeed, in brief smiles he passed
the ninth feather, would make the wing complete again
Each feather, be large or small
played his part in making the wing
and such wings made glorious phoenixes
who soared the skies of a little-known city
Each one, coming together, playing
Fighting, amending, burning, healing
The birds turned to ashes
and rose again
Shared feathers
and called them back
and as for my wing
I am, the tenth feather
Vishal Gupta
October 29th, 2013
