They fly, fly

Up, up, up they soar. They dash through clouds of white and grey, pushing, searching for the blue of the clear sky. The sun blazes down upon their backs, but they don't sweat, they don't tire. Their wings keep flapping, beating, pushing them across the wisps of air. They glide down and along the currents of air, lifting with a sudden warm gust. Far they travel, ever-searching. They fly into the night, the dark doesn't bother them. Up in the cool sky, nothing can bother them. They are untouched, unshackled, unchained. They fear no restraints, no burden can pull them down. Free, they fly, fly away.They reach for the stars, no-one discourages them. They dive down to earth, no-one holds them down. They fly, fly as they please. They fly, with no purpose, no need of direction, no sense or thought. They fly as they want, unshackled, unchained. They fly, fly where they wish. They encounter plains and valleys, mountains and lakes. All-observing, all-enduring, they fly. If it pleases them, they stop, they alight. A single tree serves as a roost, a perch. Nothing more they need. Nothing more is given. Nothing more is forced. As the morning dawns, they release their hold and leave. The leave behind no disturbance, no impression, no indication of their short stay. They leave behind all as it is, untouched, undisturbed, the way it was meant to be. They leave, no backward glances. They leave, no-one stops them. They leave, and they are free.