The skies seemed 
	more blue 
in Brazil. 
The birds seemed 
	more flighty. 
Unwilling to land 
or even comprehend 
the idea of closing 
	their wings. 
To do so would be unjust. 
To do so would mean that 
	they were no longer 
	souring. 
A part of the clouds 
Overhead and the 
	Fish that naively 
		swam below. 
So many of the two legged beings 
	seemed happy. 
	static on the hot sand 
that stopped the Sea in its footsteps. 
	To them being still was 
	part of life. 
a life they so often didn’t question. 
So few knew what it meant to Soar. 
	so few cared to find out. 
They left the flying to the birds 
and the dying to themselves. 
	The skies seemed 
	more blue 
	in Brazil, 
but the people died all the same.