whilst they chase us,
and murmur hymns 'neath swollen wings,
they guide us,
with beckon words.
for the birds of baby eyes,
and elderly minds,
they wish for and dream just as much as we,
and ask many questions 'neath--therein--night.
who are you?
who are we?
who are they?
who is may?
simplicity within sliver tongues,
and nocturne in starry eyes,
we learn,
and grow,
listening to the native tongues from the birds of age.
for they speak in rhyme,
and rhythm--you see,
and bless us with the ability.
highlighter eyes blind we,
our neon stoplights, we see,
our teacher--our father--our mentor,
that wishes we move as he does.
for he feeds us rats!
and breaks his very neck for our arrival,
'my child--my pupil--my daughter--my son--welcome'
ever he always,
'mind you--mind you--your eyes beg wonder--sleep waits not for the lazy!'
and with a hardy laugh he bellows, the wind whips its hair as pompously, and only then his feet grabs for our shirts as we soar.
with darkly snoozes,
and sickly snores,
our teacher--our father--our mentor,
cares for us dozens!
for our wings dance lots--dance lots!--midst the rocky blue sun,
and our hearts shriek with candy teeth,
at the earth swimming below our dusty feet,
and clouds preach hello in wonder.
for the twilight knows of many bodies,
of many hands,
of many feet,
of many faces,
for they look up and see moving paintbrushes 'ganist canvas!
and wish for many easels.
and the earth knows of many tired bodies,
that the night has sickened,
with drooping eyes,
and legs a-limpin',
for they become the elder too,
as they play it and earned it well.
and the night sky argues and blinks many,
and births a new globe all and of its own!
as the olden wings guide us,
and our beings ache the part,
with sliver tongues,
and nocturnal starry eyes,
whom sweeps us into Forevermore.
For the elders of the night.
