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A glass of
Sorts, beyond the Door, where moonlight Sings her end, A piece of life And justice or Some lost and Lonely thing. We sit here, Now, above the Bow, and hear a Raven sing, But unto here, And heaven’s glare, is All but everything.
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The birds
will gaze upon the stars and wonder why they dance. The sky above, so dark and speckled-- they lust to feel the air. Oh, Man Above, what do you see when you watch the ravens fly? Is it joyous? Do you weep? When you let the birds take wing—and do you care for the flocks of birds as much as you do me? Oh Man Above-- if you are above—do you see us scurry about? Tell me now, what is aloof in your mind? What do you think about the stars as you call their names when they fall or die? And are we the stars that died ago, and does our light reach you? Do you see each of us here, striving to- and-fro—and what do you think of our lights-- the ones that died long ago? Oh, Man Above, I must admit-- I watch the birds as I gaze upon the stars, and I wonder why we dance. |
William F. BurkI make worlds. I am simply an artist following my passions. I make what I make, and that is what I am. :) ArchivesCategories |
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