As I make my song, I find it answered from below, And in peculiar ways I'd like to know, So down through the green and black, I fly, Twixt the shaded realms of time, Where ages have manifest, As strands and fur, Amidst my sweet pine friends, Until at the source I arrive, To find… Continue reading The Birds Must Pity Us
Tag: Bird
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I saw a bird once; It was dead, And when I looked to it's eyes, I found they were gone. I saw a girl, too; She was alive, upon a bench, Yet as I looked to her eyes, I knew the soul had long since departed.