The crow picked the highest roof he could find. From there, he saw everything.

He spoke rarely and judged with precision. He grew used to the distance.

From that height, mistakes were small. Small mistakes were easy to name.

One day the roof gave out. The fall was hard. When he got up, nobody was looking at the roof.

They were looking at the ground. Where the damage had always been.

Moral:
Mistake height for truth
and you learn late
that the ground holds more information.

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