There is a legend about a bird..

[Can all of us find out our own thorn that deserves all the vigor in our life ???]

There is a legend about a bird which sings just once in his life, more sweetly than any other creature on the face of the earth.

From the moment it leaves the nest it searchs for a thorn tree, and does not rest until it has found one. Then, singing among the savage branches,it impales itself upon the largest , sharpest spine. And, dying, it rises above its own agony to outcarol the lark and the nightingale. One superlative song, existence the price.

But the whole world stills to listen, and God in His Heaven smiles. For the best is only bought at the lost of great pain.... Or so says the legend. The bird with the thorn in its breast, it follows an immutable law; it is driven by it knows not what to impale itself, and die singing. At the very instant the thorn enters there is no awareness in it of the dying to come; it simply sings and sings until there is not the life left to utter another note. But we, when we put the thorns in our breasts,

we know. We understand. And still we do it. Still we do it. Each of us has something within us which won’t be denied, even if it makes us scream aloud to die.

We are what we are, that is all. Like the old Celtic legend of the bird with the thorn in its breast, singing its heart out and dying. Because it has to, it’s driven to. We can know what we do wrong even before we do it, but self-knowledge can’t affect or change the outcome, can it? Everyone’s singing his own little song, convinced it’s the most wonderful song the world has ever heard.

We create our own thorns, and never stop to count the cost. All we can do is suffer the pain, and tell ourselves it was well worth it.