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Regard the Songbird

August 3, 2014
tags: ,

In the eaves at the prow of the house

there is a little songbird living.

Living and singing,

 

A soaring song

that lifts my chest and expands my lungs to a fullness,

a fullness of feeling.

 

A sorrowful song

that hollows my chest to a cavern conscious of its own emptiness

and where the air is heavy in its stillness.

 

What madness it seems for the world to go on chattering.

Stop! Regard the songbird.

Be silent and heed the song.

 

For throughout all, I swell with an impossible pride;

impossibly large, impossibly real and impossible too

because the songbird is not of me, it is not from me.

 

But when you sing, I will strain

to catch a falling note, to keep it for my own

and that much will be mine, little Songbird.

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