The sense of what I say is mine.
I know what I feel and mean, even
if you deem it is just wordy drivel
it's my drivel, my spittle, to voice
into the digital winds that whirl me
just as you, smartphone in hand,
tweet your heart out to the world,
a bird with a bird song to sing,
all in cacophony of cantankerous chorus

The question is, is what each says
of any merit, any worth? If no one bothers
to hear the words, the song, the feeling
from the other bird on the branch.
Do we birds fly in the face of our
own evolution, and fall from our
own skies, like so many Icarus'?

Or, do we nest in the Y together
and nurture the young fledglings
that are us, ourselves, preening feathers
of purpose, new sense of...alive,
untritely, each bringing our own
twig, woven clumsily, into the
chaotic weave of the nest of humanity.

© agoodguy2have 2011-03-01