i believe,
even the stars
get tired.

when the night sky
had folded them away
back into the darkness

and the moon,
that lonesome thing,
has doused itself in shadows.

so will you too, my friend
shy away from the light
as if it would burn
if it reached you.

maybe you feel,
you just are not strong enough
to face the day.

that the midnight hour
is a broken thing

and oh, the silence
is deafening.

and you and i know, even the stars
are tired.

you mourn for them
as their light expires.

Walking toward a meadow,
Toward a grove of trees
A bird chirps and tweets a song,
Insistently.

We aim to please:
We chirp and tweet,
We mimic the call:
Are we right or are we wrong?
The bird responds,
A little more strong.

We sharpen our ear,
Improve the pitch,
The bird is happier,
We’ve decreased the glitch.

Another pattern of chirps and tweets,
We’re the guest, the bird treats.
We sing again, so sweet, so sweet!
Having a bird friend is very neat.

. Within our mind
We hear a song,
A high-pitched whistle,
The Cosmic Hum.

We trill the song,
The bird responds;
So do trees and stones and ponds.

Trilling, singing, doodly-dee doing,
We stroll and run,
Ahh! What Fun!

We stroll and run,
Ahhh! What Fun