Sunday, January 27, 2013

The Faithful Bird


Perched on a high branch,
The bird felt gravity;
Dreading the winter
The unknown far South
And departure from her Beloved.
Must I follow the herd,
Runaway from the cold,
And go to a warm place,
Only to return when everything is all right?
How does that make
Me loyal, faithful?
I will not betray you,
I will stay here
Even if it kills me.
Death must come to all,
It’s how we all end.
I’d rather die in your arms,
Than on my way away
From You and Your warmth.
No matter how dreadful
Your winter might be;
No matter how cold
You may be to me;
Your heart’s warmth,
Your soul’s radiance,
Cannot be hidden from me.
I will remain perched
On this high branch
And stand by You
In your frigid weather.
I’ll be here, Always.

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