The Little Grey Sparrow

July 1, 2011 § 1 Comment


In the darkest part of a dingy, damp and echoing archway there sat a small grey sparrow. He had been born there amongst the grime and smoke and had never seen a clear morning sky, or felt the cool breeze under his wings. Just beneath his hidden perch there was a tiny jazz club, and the bird could often hear snatches of life, laughter and…music. Sad, but with a pure sweetness that tore at his little heart, though he didn’t know why.

One night the sparrow poked his head out from his perch and looked down into the street below, which was all lit up in fairground colours. The little sparrow hopped carefully to the very edge of his perch and stood there trying to make up his mind, tilting his head from one side to the other.

He thought to himself ‘That is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.’

Suddenly, he took off, flapping his wings uncertainly as the unfamiliar wind picked him up in its arms. He swooped over the lit up street and upward towards the top of the hill where he could see a glorious building, glowing against the dark sky like a fairytale castle.

He thought to himself ‘That is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.’

As he reached it, he could see still figures hiding in amongst the stone pillars, and he was afraid. But as he drew closer, he saw that these were only statues, with smooth calm faces. Laughing at his fear, he flew downwards towards a great set of doors. Swooping inside, the little sparrow gazed into a vast expanse of light and splendour. Bright colour and glints of gold delighted his sparkling eyes, and he fluttered into the huge space beyond. Soaring upwards into a great dome, the bird gasped as he saw the figure of a man dressed in white, with his arms outstretched, flanked by angels with golden halos.

He thought to himself ‘That is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen.’

At the very highest part of the dome was a row of tiny windows, and out of one of these, the little sparrow fluttered, drawn by tiny pinpricks of sparkling silver. In a rush, he soared out into the night sky. Upwards and upwards in dizzying spirals. And looked down across an endless view of light. This little bird, who had seen nothing but smoke and smog all his life, looked down on a great city of streets like strands of diamonds and buildings lit up like treasure.

It was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

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