Let it fly!

Ever wondered where do the soaring kites land up?

I have seen kites, have seen them carrying all the colours that a rainbow promises. They fly high, past the clouds and meadows and onlookers. They keep flying past you and you wonder how good it might feel to hold them, to make them yours.  And you start running, you cross streets, meadows, different cities and yet you find them flying high, out of your reach. And all of a sudden when you already had stopped hoping to find it, it drops right before your eyes and you find yourself holding it. There, that very day you realise you don't really know what you want to do with it. You were told to chase it but not what to do when you would find it!

You come back home, smoothen it's creases, mend its broken ribs and tie it to your window sill. It starts fluttering in the roaring wind. The thread tied to it pins it down each time it tries to escape. And then one day you realise it's not yours, you are not it's home. You never were. And then you slowly cut off the thread and off it flies free. Free from your grip,  for by that time you have already realised that kites look beautiful in skies, that is where it best belongs. You may love it enough but it won't be able to love you back for you don't smell freedom.