Ten Birds

December 31, 2004

Ten birds in a black tree
First they sing then they speak to me
They tell of this world
And the colors of the stars
And the clouds which around them swirl
Like spirits among the black spars.

In the longest lifetime
They cannot recall all the rhymes
To tell of their world
Yet they take their time to sing
To me of my own gemstone shades
And the spirits which I bring.

They are thankful of me
That I come to their old tree
With tastes of my world
And my own bright colored stars
So they sing as for no other
Spirit under their black spars.

When a man is alone
With a soul chilled as old stone
So small becomes his world
And faint the light of his stars
Without breath, his heart fades to grey
And breaks his spirit to shards.

And like me he must stand
And greet the lesser of his land
So that bright turns his world
With a primal song of truth
From the breath of creatures closer
To the spirit of his youth.


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