Flight is the freedom in it’s purest form,
To dance with the clouds which follow the storm.
To roll and guide, to wheel and spin,
To feel the joy that swells within.
To leave the earth with it’s trouble and fly,
And know the warmth of clear spring sky.
Then back to the earth at the end of the day,
Released from the worries that melted away.
Should my end come while I am in flight,
whether the day or the darkest night.
Spare me the pity and shrug off the pain,
secure in the knowledge that I would do it again.
For each of us is created to die,
And within me I know,
“I was born to FLY.”
– Piyush Kacha.