Ascension.

It can be too simple These doubts that grow Blurring the lines Of history’s song; The words of hissing rain Ask every redbird’s name To remind us of circles And life not seen But felt.

With the dark The quiet remains An evening path Of seeds and leaves; Promise and protect, Eyes closed and head back These memories emerge Like fossils in sand.

Darkness can deepen, Enfold the spirit; A long night spawns Despair and doubt; But here the dawn reveals a crimson sky, A single note arises; We face East and, With quickening hope, Ascend.