Perhaps, we have art as a consolation for being unable to fly...
Dreams of flying are auspicious (I miss those). Observing pigeons, and reading the saints has afforded me quite a bit of opportunity to mull over wings, both physical and metaphorical.
Here are a few aphorisms of mine:
At a certain altitude, if our wings are large and powerful enough, there is no need to flap them - we simply soar.
To remain in fine, flying form, our wings require careful, constant grooming.
Wings are needed not only to fly, but also to keep our balance.
—y. lababidi, author of Desert Songs
