It is not only fine feathers that make fine birds

After three consecutive rainy days, I look out the window to see trees which look greener. There are always some birds sitting in these trees and I believe they live there.

I always wonder why birds stay in the same place when they can fly anywhere on the earth. Then I ask myself the same question.

I still remember how my boss asked me to stay here two years ago.

“Birds go wherever the food is and stay where the food is.” He spoke to me anxiously. I understood that he was worried about my decision.

“We are birds in flight, searching the skies for dreams.” I told him.

“Not every tree is a home for every bird.” He said.

“Birds born in a cage think flying is an illness.” I told him.

“At some point we all play by the rules, whether it’s the rules of all mankind, the rules of the Father who is time, or the rules of nature who is mother.” He signed and I could feel his sadness. He didn’t want me to leave.

“Anyway, keep in touch, my dear.” He looked at me and looked in my eyes.

“Will do.”

“Protectionism. One day you will understand the rules. This is only one thing more painful than learning from experience and this is not learning from experience.” He said sincerely.

I nodded.

I was not so sure. And I am not so sure.