One day, exhausted and confused, he went down to the clearing in the forest. There was the dove, drinking water from the stream. The crow approached, trembling.
“Can I talk to you?” he asked softly.
“Of course,” she replied tenderly.
“I’ve tried to be like you,” he said. “To fly like you, to sing like you… I’ve given it my all, but I still feel empty. No one sees me, no one values me. Maybe I have no value.”
The dove looked at him without judgment, with profound calm. She approached slowly and replied:
—Crow, you weren’t born to imitate. You were born to fly high, to see what no one else sees from the heights. Your song isn’t soft, but it heralds the changing of the seasons. Your feathers aren’t white, but they protect. You are necessary. The forest needs your shadow as much as it needs my light.
The crow lowered its gaze, moved.
“But no one notices…”
“Because you stopped noticing it first,” said the dove. “When you abandoned yourself to be like me, you also abandoned your essence. And without your essence there is no brilliance. Without your truth there is no flight .”
The awakening
That night, the raven returned to the oak tree. But he was no longer the same.
He looked at his reflection in the river and, for the first time, saw no ugliness. He saw depth, history, strength. And when the first ray of dawn touched his wings, he opened them and flew away.
He flew high, very high. Not to be looked at, not to please, not to imitate. He flew because that was his way of being free .
