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Praise be the nightingales, keep on singing |
Nightingales [Aviery, part III] A nightingale's symphony, it sounds throughout the night; with owls lost in memory, nocturnal in their plight Orchestrated murmerings, turning on the wing Echoes through a darkening, a siren's song to sing Ringing through a hollow night, that used to feel full; now empty... used to feel right, the morning has its pull as nightingales weave on through, the fabric of their days Storms sewn tight, their peace on view, in envy of their ways in envy of their outlook, in awe of how they fly, in spite of how their doubt took, ... in spite of greying sky Trust torn, worn on bright feathers, vulnerability on show So just in flight, it weathers, we should take the things we're owed A catalogue of what we missed, in wastelands, long gone by; in fear of a lover's tryst, so vulnerable, we fly with hearts that give, yet cannot take, whilst souls that suffer, sting Owls cursed with wings that break, when nightingales sing Melodies dreamt not for me, to venture out, explore; to be part of a symphony, ... a part of something more Hearts truths wing, they hold their sway, as time uncaptured, flies Owls weave, they reave their way, through daylight's lullabies Owls dreaming at lowlight, with dusk a lonely draw Owls swooping low at night, whilst nightingales soar Through splintered stars and gilded bars, such time we're meant to spend Let them know how loved they are, before the singing ends with owls lost in memories, of daytime's dying light; 'midst nightingales' symphonies, ... sounding through the night |