Time brought his two together,
Tattered jack worn off,
Bathed in the spring moonlight,
The golden bird was new tonight.
Like an angel, was risen from among them,
Stood top atop the heavens,
Garbed in the tripartite colors,
It was from them, for them,
Not at all from some foreign land,
Every eye upon him,
He looked at everyone down,
They had done it, he knew,
Tales he would tell others about those few.
But the morning was yet to come,
He had had to fly high before the sun shone,
Free from those waspy fretters now that he was.
He looked at those gaping cuts,
That would never go,
And Those burns which stopped singing long ago,
But now there was a silver lining,
None could ever see.
Were those sullen mugs shining,
As they had never been.
Were the hopes rising,
Elated like floods uneven.
Oozing its happy sheen.
Was the sky too sighing,
Amazed at the passion below.
Were those hearts racing,
To see him zip across.
It will be hard coz it’s been a while,
He wasn’t tired, but had he forgotten to fly.
Let the winds come, he then leapt,
Closed eyes and wind swept.
Wings pushing hard to gain some height,
And harder, before the first light.
He rose as he never had,
And it all came back to him,
He could still, gaining some more climb,
There was no stopping now,
Now the shackles all gone,
He rose as he never had.
The dawn was breaking,
The sun peeping around,
He was rising high as he never had.
