When Small Wings Learn the World

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Morning arrives with a quiet ache,

and I rise before the light can bloom.

My baby sleeps beneath my wings,

safe for now from the restless wind.


The world is wide, yet food is small -

a single bean, a fragile grace.

We live on little, we learn to wait,

for hunger teaches patient faith.


Poverty walks beside us softly,

not always seen, but always known;

a living breath that feels like death,

to exist and still feel alone.


Yet poverty is only the beginning,

never the end of the story’s thread.

Determination rewrites what fate

once believed was already said.


I search the earth with careful eyes,

finding meaning in scattered seeds.

Knowledge is wealth no storm can steal,

wisdom the treasure the spirit needs.


Understanding grows like morning light,

slowly warming a fearful sky;

ignorance is the deepest poverty -

a darkness where true visions die.


You will stumble when you first fly,

fall from branches, fear the air.

Failure strips away false pride,

but clearer truth is waiting there.


The poorest knock on gentle hearts,

not to wound, but just to live.

When every door has turned to stone,

kindness is the only home they seek.


Still, many fear what hunger shows -

a mirror of their hidden dread.

So they pass in silence, eyes lowered,

running from the poor like death.


But listen, child beneath my wings:

strength is quiet, not always loud.

Storms will carve your soul with care,

shaping courage from every cloud.


Adversity is a heavy road,

yet it refines the will to rise.

Comfort rarely teaches depth,

but hardship opens wiser eyes.


One day you will leave this nest,

carrying both ache and light.

Remember - riches are not gold alone,

but what you learn through endless flight.


And when the sky feels cold and cruel,

when the world forgets your name,

know that even the smallest dove

can turn sorrow into flame.


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