Blissful birds sit upon my window
cackling away in unabashed harmony.
I whisper unto them,
that true happiness
can never be scrounged
from the ears of napping strangers
in their stuporous entitlement.
Starlight at dawn frowns upon
that only beget lives unfulfilled…
I block it out with reinforced realism,
for only in my myriad visions
can I be someone
spared whole by this unforgiving world.
The leaves of autumn fall, faded,
low and brave.
Upon the glassy pond they ritually unite.
As one ripples through changing seasons,
one too many cherished moments
lapse into the facade of the past,
creased to falsify faithful resurgence.
Blissful birds at twilight, gather at my doorstep
seeking a tune with them to tenderly carry
up to their unfinished nests;
hymns of tomorrow will nest and fend
for them, who’re asleep, leagues deep
‘neath the innermost crust of perceptions.