Of all the winds and forlorn sighs,
I breach the earth with lone demise.
With every step a hot stone,
Unwavering yet still amongst
My quiet, yearning breath.
Resting in the fields of amber,
A jaded branch awakens the sun.
Nesting crows and nightingales,
Ever solemn and bittersweet are
The birds amidst the eastern sky.
I seek the sun and willow roots,
Unrelenting soil beneath my feet.
With brash lips and a fickle tongue,
I set my lungs aflame by wallowing
In the tides of golden, barren sand.
When I turn to face that starlit sky,
I see a vision in the moon that becomes
A quiet, echoing croon. My gaze meets
The night birds and their raven wings.
I listen to birdsong in the wind and fog;
Awaken from slumber, my weary eyes.
Follow the birds to a new morning sun,
Take the stones from my spine and meet
The silent-spoken, forthcoming dawn.