Ambivert

I wonder how the bird whose wings were cut off looks at the sky? With rage? With regret? With grief? Despair? Love? Peace?

I sat under the rain with a bee next to me and spoke to it as if the world had run out of listeners. Oh, bee, I searched for love the way you searched for honey, but life's troubles weigh upon my soul, just like this rain drop that weighs upon your little wings.I sat under the rain with a bee next to me and spoke to it as if the world had run out of listeners. ~Hashem y-a.