The Same
The birds flew by
as the wind blew past.
Cars come cruising, crossing coastlines.
They're the same.
Birds fly free with the ocean breeze
and the cars follow along to their graceful flight.
They're the same, together in the light.
One flies,
one drives.
They're the same.
An endless road.
An infinite sky.
They're the same.
It's no race,
they're at the same pace.
The road twists and the car does not slow.
The bird resists the wind and flies high.
They're the same.
The road is black and yellow,
and the sky is blue and white.
They're the same.
From Guest Contributor Daniel Duong