Little Bird

Little Bird

Betwixt the flame, and juniper,
the spritely dance so bright,
the may bells chime, the piper,
from darkness into light.

Did the rain douse the embers in the dawn?
When the fires raged, upon the hill,
your poignant heart tossed into the flame,
rising through the darkness, once again,
into the hallowed silence, and beyond,
did you feel the sallow crush of my own,
sweep across the moorland and the brush,
dressed in these sodden rags,
without a home, muddied and mired,
in the sunken shifting dirt of desire;

No true love that was ever born,
is alone in the darkness of night,
like a rose that is paired to its thorn,
true love is connected to light.

In the crackling heat of the logs and twigs,
bursting into fire at your feet,
did the drums drown out my heartbeat,
in the swirling ecstasy of your trance, and still,
the fervent longing of your missions bitter pill,
to take this darkness, tucked under your wing,
an offering to this ever loving man, and dash it,
down into the fire, devouring the night,
in the kindling embers of that radiant light.

Beauty lifts the soul,
laughter softens the chin,
love holds the flame,
that shines the light within.

To soften hearts, and raise the subtleties of spirit,
above the rancour of dull earth,
the din of the forlorn and broken.
No greater beauty doth a spirit bring,
than that it fill a soul, to raise its heart to sing.
Magic rings,
in every soft simple sweep, of your melodious trill,
the epiphany of gossamer chords,
drift mellifluously through the morn,
for yours, little bird, is the gentle gift of the light reborn.

© Richard Michael Parker 2012