The Sign

The birds fly toward the sunset
When they return I know not

I asked for a sign from the One on high
I found then the place where the Peregrine slept
That prince of freedom that traversed the
Sunrise heavens and beyond the peak of day
Lay broken now in the bushy green shadows
His lifeless talons still clutching the tender branch
As if at life to hold
The splendor of his royal coat undiminished
As was his glorious winged form
So, I buried him and my daughter marked his grave
Beyond the estates and gardens not less than 3 loved ones flew away
Each one greater than most and sweetly fruitful

So this is the message then,
Even the greatest among us
Those that we wish to emulate,
Are plucked from the stock, tree, bush, field and vine
We to then, who are either lowly in visage
Or climbing to the stars, will be harvested when ripe
And no amount of mourning, ceremony or memorial
Can make clear the eroding, extinguished life
Save that which is eternal and unknowable
At this time

The only certainty
That this proclamation brings
Is that with every rising sun
Many countless stars
Drift beyond our gravity and view
Until we are invited and taken in
To shine in that community
Of the unseen forevermore.