As a soft gentle breeze; rustles her long black hair,
The morning sun causing a bright glint; as it reflects her beauty,
Much like the feathers of the raven; as he glides towards the sun,
Freely he soars through a path destined; to who knows where?
The rain and the sun, the hail and the snow; deters him not,
Against all odds; he follows his destiny,
Pause for a while sweet black bird; just a for a little while,
Share thy great wisdom with me; ease my troubled Soul,
Do you not yearn for comforts; away from the cold,
Does your little heart not ache?
For the sweet love; of the beautiful raven-haired maiden,
Do you not wish to rest; hang up your powerful wings of glory,
Perhaps sail her upon thy wings; on the voyage into the unknown,
Do you not long to hear her sweet voice; making music in the sky,
Will you deny her sweet love; break her gentle heart,
Or will you fly away; to return to her another day,
When that day; surely will dawn.
The answers you do not give me; instead, you simply say,
My will is not my own; it is of my creator,
On my return; would she still feel the same,
Share with me forever; the path that lies ahead of her,
In the chill of the night; would she want me to lie down beside her,
Would she wish for the stars; if I gave her the moon,
Would she still want me; when my wings are tired from old,
Or when my feathers no longer shine; in the glow of the sun,
Would she guide my hand; when my eyes can no longer see,
Should I be a burden unto her; when my body is bent and old,
When I lay down beneath the ground; depart into the unknown,
Who would be there then; to keep her body warm,
Who would hold her heart; when darkness falls,
The love that I have for her; from the depths of my soul,
Should I grant it all freely; risk being a burden unto her,
Or shall I hide my sad face; behind the face of the clown,
Cry in the rain; to hide the deep tracks of my tears,
When these answers you have for me; young man of many questions,
The answers you shall have; for your many questions,
Remember thy creator’s law; what is to be, will surely be,
Thus, I say unto thee; man of many questions,
Upon my return; what is to be, will surely be.
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