Pray, open your hearts to hark
The solemn story of a meadowlark
Dawn climbs to brighten the air
Dark lenses observing wonder
The myriad of color over
Blackness flees before his counterpart
Warm and fair

Seven gifts of song
Youthful, although enough mature
About to find another far away place
To cheer with calls of grace
Notes precise and pure
 

One perches on the brink
To take his freedom or to sink
The pulsing, pressing, honest fear
Of knowing no place but here
Is conquered by courage and desire
To taste liberation’s sweetest nectar
Become a golden-breasted star
He trusts, wings spread, sailing above the brier

Five others follow suit
Small hearts are galloping horses
Exhilaration grips, each on their courses
Claiming their destinies for restitute
A single remains, left alone
How longs she for boundlessness!
Yearning’s cries out-sound
The wails of fearing treacherous ground
She desperately grabs at weightlessness

Gusts blow in, harsh their tune
No gentle breeze of Nature’s boon
Pushed, delicate flight is broke
The earth rushes
Cruel, crushes
Left with a final croak
Chance giv’n but once, no, Nevermore
Save perhaps in His gardens to soar