Once in the bright red sun,
Soared a gull from its fun
Of a joyful dream,
Where this gull, in nature,
Soared way above his stature,
Being the best of flight around and found,
That he was best left to sleep,
For fishing around in the deep
Was not his way, but of the others,
Who cared, loved and abandoned him.
He found himself
On hard, cold earth,
His way of life reinstated,
For on this very hard, cold earth
He found what he most wanted.
This gull, though famous
For his dismissal from the flock,
Returned in the morning to the dock,
Where nestled were the others,
Who cared, loved and abandoned him.
Another day, another try,
To what most gulls call “revolting”,
To find for himself a life of flying.
Than for fish, bolting.
Aiming for perfection
Was what he wanted most,
His thirst for the knowledge of flight,
And to prove to those
Who banished him forever,
That there was much beyond the food.
So this seagull
Abandoning all pretence
For the dull, routine life of a gull
Proved in the end, to them
That perfection comes to those
Who have the will to learn.
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