Caged-bird

I feel like, ironically, Aquarius actually really fears freedom. It’s a fixed sign, after all. They are like the caged bird that wants to escape and fly but once the cage is open they don’t know where to go or what to do. They can be a rebel without a cause, fighting for liberation for the sake of liberation, but not actually knowing why they want to be free or what they would do once they are free. True freedom is found once you stop rebelling. Because rebellion is a reaction to something that still controls you.

i’m petsitting my mom’s umbrella cockatoo and i love him he is a fluffy white cloud with a face and he is very kind and likes to coo softly at stuffed animals and small children and if i pick him up he likes to gently rest his head against my chest and ask to be petted 

This is a swan song
for the forgotten ones. 
The ones who are the first to apologize,
the ones who cringe at loud sounds,
the ones who seem a bit too relieved when the 
lights go out. 

I see you.

Those are the best words
I can think of to 
give to you.
Let me say that again:
Your ache does not go unnoticed.

I see you.

No one ever taught us
what to do when our window blinds
start to look like the bars of a bird cage.

We had to find a new way of breathing ourselves.
We are still learning this act.
This play, this stage, this spinning dance
of feathers and falling and flying.

But the wind will always lift you up
when you need it the most.

Not everyone will be able to hear
the sound of your fists clenching,
or understand the noise you make when you cry,
but the ones that do will be the ones who
will guide your wings upward.

After all, they are migrating too. 

In the end, we are all just lost creatures
trying to find a way back home.

—  Swan Song {cosmic-hope}
Motivational Cole

Cole usually darts away from being touched overlong but today it’s your hand he takes, holds in his, fingers curled to cup and to hold. “He doesn’t know, doesn’t see to know to talk about for sure, but he does, feels it close behind the cage of bone where birds flutter and squeaks. Birds. You can learn to open your arms like wings, learn yourself day by day and one by each. Not broken. Fixed. Fixing. Dented, maybe, but dents are the proof of strength, held where others cracked. You held, you stayed. Learning. Mapping the dent, cartographer in a strange land you thought you knew. He doesn’t know all the new places that are old, but will find them with you, if you need that place with four feet. Together,” he says, sounding surprised, and lets loose a laugh. “Together? You? And I? He’d like that.”