Don't Touch the Sky

In the city of rust and broken glass Where the skyline bites the clouds and the neon never lasts There lived a pigeon with a fire in his chest Not a flame of anger, but a hunger for the rest He watched the jets cut through the haze And the kites dance in the wind’s lazy maze But he wanted more — not just to glide He wanted to pierce the blue, to rise, to ride «I’ll go higher,» he whispered one night «Higher than the towers, out of sight Higher than the crows, higher than the drones I’ll touch the sun — I’ll claim my own.» Fly high But remember Don’t touch the sky A falling shadow, a silent cry A dream that burned against the sky And now, when the night is cold and deep You can hear his ghost in the winds that sweep A faint beat of wings, a whisper, a sigh «Fly high… but remember… don’t touch the sky.»