The Infantile Wings that would never Kiss Free Air in the Open Skies

The parents will miss a new life's eager chirps to take an independent flight. In the indifferent womb of mother nature, such stories are ever unfolding. The globular grass house of the Spotted Munia will be emptier today. For the last one week it sounded a house full of noisy toddlers as parents cargoed baby food throughout the day. From the jingling notes emanating from the grass house, I could make out around three kids. One has toppled down today. Its shape of matter is melting into thousands of ants as they jump onto the stage of infinite series of matter/energy transformations. I could hear a lone, almost sad, note from the nest. There is supposed to be at least one birdie toddler there, wondering why the house has become silent and emptier. In this ever flowing stream of energy, the selfless love, like here shown by the birdie parents, creates temporary loops of thriving lumps of life. Out of many possibilities, the impenetrable, secret doctrine of mother nature unfolds endless pictures on the fluid canvas whom we, due to our limited sense perception, see through the prism of pleasure, pain, agony and ecstasy. Well, that's what makes us humans. A sad interjection in the tiny birdie phrase here. But then I would be happy if at least one hatchling takes on the journey of an adult, crossing the grassy threshold and fly into the uncharted skies. Like a huge breech tree in pristine forests produces millions of seeds in its lifespan of a few hundred years. Out of all these possibilities, if even a single seed germinates to be an adult tree like the mother tree, it's called a successful reproduction cycle. Similarly, multiple chirps jingle musically in a nest, and at the most one note carries the song ahead to keep the story alive and kicking. Well, that's how life is my dear friends!