The birds are singing sweet awakening.
Hope found in a tiny living thing.
Free the flight, then gliding high.
Imagining within the sky.

This is the only meant to be I know.
Continuance within a breeze that flows.
Dallying, the comprehension comes.
None of us can be the only one.

Age and fortune, fame and wealth -
Meaningless, the feelings stalk
each present moment lived just out of sync.
Society that teeters on the brink.

Give and give, yet never quite receive.
Busyness, the opposite of ease.
Running from the wise of intuition.
Golden are the halls of limitation.

The birds are singing sweet awakening.
Hope found in a tiny living thing.
Free, the flight, then gliding high.
Imagining within the sky.

The morning dawns within a song.
Here, there is no right or wrong.
Free, the flight, then gliding high.
Imagining a new life in the sky....

? Michaelette ?