Tell, what are we? Each but a bird
Frail wingèd motes a-fluttering
And song so faint as can't be heard
For all we aim at thundering

What world is this? 'Tis but a hall
Yet bright with candles flickering
Bleak Time lurks black without the walls
And silent, waits, while snickering

The shutters op'ed to darkness be
To heartless aeons beyond count
Nor may light e'er hope to see
But aught without, or night surmount

From whence came we? There is no name
Known for that vastly distant fount
Afore our souls laid bodies claim
For where they did in birthing mount

Yet here we are, we motley flock
Though close - sad, lonely, terrified
Broke free to light with joyous shock
We squeak (call'd - 'laugh') at time defied

Be some amongst us, risen up
They; lauded, envied, deified
While others drink the other cup
Who weep as though they ne'er had cried

Though some flapped hither from the dark
Swift-arrow'd, others brokenly
Swan, tern or eagle, gull or lark
Came all with fearful urgency

And though we feel such homely fit
In this inept community
We hover e'er, and none will lit
For flapping we've an affinity

Yet comes a day when each, his wings
More heavy grow than's bearable
Each rapid, fleeting moment clings
And wearies incomparable

The window, where once all came in
From vastness inconceivable
And long forgot, yet now begins
To beckon, and seem usable

So presently each bird deigns leave
This hall's enfolding sanctity
While wond'ring new can scare conceive
What calls them to Eternity

Quick horror, waked deep in the breast
Is spurred by such insanity
But - tiny, helpless, at our best
We bid them leave, whom ne'er we'll see

Each but a bird, each 'ere long flown
To aimless, wand'ring limbo
And all the life that each has known
Was but a beat, 'twixt windows

November 21, 2002