A bird so desperate to fly Sitting in the nest and adoring the sky Seeing the distant view of woods and building Unaware of his destiny's conspiracy who wants his yielding Under the cool shade of tree The bright sight he views and sees Unaware about the heat of the sun For a sky to conquer he thinks he is the only one With passing time the day comes and he takes off Flying here and there just for a bread loaf Wind blows to make him change direction But he thinks he is controlling his action He realises that every factor is using him But still in his eyes there is a raging fire of dreams He imagine himself flying above clouds in sky And sees the glimpse of success by closing his eyes He alone flies by all the odds facing Sees others in group and omens tracing Nothing but defeat in his toes he catches But realization of learning he has from all the matches The sky gets dark and it rains Able to do nothing and in water he drains The chirp of his grief gets loud...
There is a sense of conventionality in linearity. A polygon, when exceeds 22 sides becomes a circle. An idea, when loses conventionality becomes curved - smooth, free, universal yet unconventional.