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After one but before the next, |
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In a tree where new life writhed and flexed |
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Two birds emerged to hold the world |
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And grow from feeble talons curled |
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But fate see them part that day |
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As lightning cut their branch away |
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By winds to distant places sent |
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Almost as if it all had meant |
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That though their bloodied wounds would fade, |
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They'd wonder where their brother lay |
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For every day from that day on |
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They'd wait to hear a certain song |
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In vain, for years, thought one was strong |
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And one was not, for far too long |
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Until his bones and thoughts were old, |
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And feathers burnt and lost and cold |
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The stronger of the two could see |
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A distant bird, how weak was he |
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In drawing near but knowing not, |
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Just who he was, or why, or what |
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the stronger talons tore at flesh |
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And stripped away that feathered mess |
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And all without a sound or cry, |
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Or even ever knowing why |
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Yet as the sun began to sink |
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He seemed to sense, he seemed to think |
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That soon his brother might appear |
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From somewhere close, from somewhere near |
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Convinced this was his brother's fate, |
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Above his corpse, he sat... to wait |
