Secrets of the Sky Rook

Eternity, stretched beneath our wings,

As we drift away, on our own silver lining,

What secrets will the sun say?

That the stars have not already written?

 

When blackness comes, and darkness rises,

The rooks will fly far past our praises,

Flying by, to where the sun gazes,

Reaching high! To do as they please.

 

Flying free, as birds should do,

Singing their songs, revolving around you,

There will be truths; there will be sorrow,

There will be fear, for the dawn of the morrow.

 

And we shall feel, repent and remorse,

For all our fields of life lay bear and lost,

When did we live? When shall we fly?

Our theses the lessons we learn from the sky?

 

As we drift away, what secrets will the sun say?

 

Author's Note

A little ditty that came to mind a few days ago

Reviews

[R J Askew]

I used to love rooks, but I can't say I've seen that many of them recently. I can't think of a rookery near me here. There are fewer of them and i miss their flying...also miss lapwings. I sort of remember rooks from early childhood...they are a noticeable bird, or were. I even like the name ... and of course it crops up on the chess board. The point about the stars knowing more than the sun is stinkingly true. We are a bit like rooks, all over the place in a wild sky of life ... never quite knowing. Black birds, rooks? feature in onf Van Gogh's famous pictures thought to symbolise his imbalance. But I don't think they are sinister birds at all. They actually seem quite joyful often and are most sociable and stately in their glossy black suits.