falling for a flight

it is hard to tell where to begin. zillions of words residing in the dictionary atop my table, are all mine. and all my words are songs to sings, but i neither have the voice nor the skill to express them otherwise. so i begin my flight with someone else's words, who said it so brilliantly that his words became my confession.

"even though slow and sluggish
evening comes,
and stops as with a gesture
your song;
even though you are alone
in the infinite sky,
and your body weary,
and in terror you utter
a silent mantra
to horizons hidden by the veil
-bird, o my bird,
though it is darkening,
do not fold your wings." [tagore]