Consider the albatross.  With a wingspan of three metres.  Able to travel nine hundred kilometres in a day.

And now the poem The Albatross …

Often, to amuse themselves, the men of a crew
Catch albatrosses, those vast sea birds
That indolently follow a ship
As it glides over the deep, briny sea

Scarcely have they placed them on the deck
Than these kings of the sky, clumsy, ashamed
Pathetically let their great white wings
Drag beside them like oars
That winged voyager, how weak and gauche he is
So beautiful before, now comic and ugly

One man worries his beak with a stubby clay pipe
Another limps, mimics the cripple who once flew

The poet resembles this prince of cloud and sky
Who frequents the tempest and laughs at the bowman
When exiled on the earth, the butt of hoots and jeers
His giant wings prevent him from walking

Charles Baudelaire shows us another side, far from the majesty of the great bird.

How we bring each other down to earth, not feeling the heights, mocking the weirdness of those who see beyond.

Settle down

Don’t be great beyond measure

Just fit in

Or not