The Flight of the Unseen Bird

High above the whispering trees,
A silent shadow rides the breeze,
Its wings unfurl, a sacred scroll,
A tale of freedom, sky, and soul.

It soars beyond the mountain’s face,
Unbound by time, untouched by place,
Its feathers stitched with dawn and flame,
Unknown by all, without a name.

It dips through clouds like threads of lace,
A dancer stitched in wind’s embrace,
No cage, no chain, no tethered call,
Just sky to climb and stars to fall.

It drinks the hush of twilight’s hymn,
And glides where daylight starts to dim,
Its eyes reflect the moonlit tide,
A quiet realm where dreams still hide.

No poet’s pen has traced its flight,
No painter caught its wings in light,
It lives beyond the reach of men,
And leaves no footprints where it’s been.

Through storms it sails with fearless grace,
A ghost that time can’t hope to chase,
Each beat a vow, each glide a song,
To skies where unknown hearts belong.

And should you glimpse it drifting high,
A fleeting star against the sky,
Know not its name, nor seek its nest—
Some birds are born to fly, not rest.