The Lark

The Lark

Upon the branch sat a lark
Thrumming softly in the dark
Sleeping sweetly in the breeze
Holding tightly with great ease

Staying fast with summer dreams
Waiting for the daylight seams
No deep thoughts invade his mind
Only simple things one will find

Sometimes I wake and wonder
While I wait to sleep and slumber
Whether reason be a Godly gift
A thought through which I often sift

At every dawn waxes the sun
the moon comes when the day is done
There is no light without dark
It would not better as the lark

Remember the hand can never take
What the mind might one day make
The living walk upon the dead
Good and evil have always led

Without question I will fall
That is the destiny given to all
Do not fret over what is written
For all of us fate has bitten


Author's note, please check out "A Poet's Tribute" and "The Sun Dial"