You escape from my memories
And find a way to my words
You seek eternity
In my tiny little world.
That's why I hold the pen —
To write a thousand poem
Sing a million song
To keep you alive
Until we get along.
About the Creator
Mohamed Sakhiri
merely for self expression
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The First Wingbeat
The moment before flight is always quieter than anyone expects. It doesn’t arrive with revelation or thunder or some cinematic surge of certainty. It comes as a tremor—small, internal, almost private. A shift in the body before the mind has language for it. A recognition that something in you has already decided, long before you admit it out loud. The first wingbeat is not motion. It is permission.
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