The Bird and Baby

Be it long and ever cruel,
Now exits night
And leaves the light.

This brilliant, piercing day
Reveals my crippling,
And rash deformities.

And while the dark is lonely,
The dawn is lonelier still,
For now I see the spaces;
Those bitter places,
With which there is nothing to fill,
Save for my own weakness.

Every fear and vile thought,
I once thought well to blame on shadow,
Now lingers like a monument,
Basking defiantly in the sacred glow,
Of a hallowed morning.

Who is there left?
Who can see this?
Upon which unfortunate heart,
Can I cast the burden,
Of my sorrow?

Sitting here now,
Amidst a cloud of smoke,
Made vibrant by golden rays of fire,
I can see clearly,
That only I remain,
To embellish this hellish ground.

What good would it be to mourn then,
For what ear could receive my words?
If all the beauty and warmth,
Of a new day,
Cannot slake my desolation,
Then what hope is left for me?

Can I ever hope,
To find my way,
Back to the valley;
To feel the cool grass,
Beneath my feet,
And hear the song,
Of the water?

You say, with warmth,
And calming surety,
That these days shall pass,
And these paths shall lead,
To peaceful mountains.
Still I lie awake in fury,
Overwhelmed by shame,
In my own weakness.

How great is my own fear then,
That by the same strange force,
That draws us together,
I shall be a harbinger of woe,
And a weapon weilded,
By the Herald of Dread and Darkness.

Perhaps by some misplaced desire,
Of love and protection,
It would be better to flee this place,
And hide these cords that bind me.
For how could I bear;
How could I ever endure,
To raise my sword against the Lightbearer?

But even I cannot believe this.

Of all folly conceived,
By the greatest of fools,
This indeed is greatest.
That I should look at selfishness,
And claim it sacrifice.
To look at cowardice,
And call it kindness.

I stand in the presence,
Of joy and fellowship,
Still my sorrow is deepened.

I know this to be true,
That His strength,
Manifests in my weakness,
But I cannot see it,
Nor grasp it to claim,
Nor find refuge in this promise.

Still I know it is here,
As sure as the dawn.
If only I could see it.