I Wrote Something

Longing 'neath the vining flames
a Hermit Thrush 'pon tangled branch sings alone
His broken wings too full of pain
His blackened sky too full of smoke
The only way ahead is death
but his sad melody rings with hope

With gratitude in weary heart
there is solace in the shadows
As his lonely branch begins to spark
the glowing embers turn to rainbows
A raging wall of fire presses hard
as the ashes fall like snow

The only way ahead is death
and death is all that's left to go
But the Hermit Thrush 'pon flaming branch
finds rest in the afterglow
in a song he sings alone
a song that rings of home