Consciousness comes undone
Before the beating of his wings
Cursed as he is not to feel the sun
But dwell in dark on darker things
Darkness holds him like a mother
A blanket that keeps him warm
Soon he must preen and ponder
The things he’ll do before the storm
With glorious intent he plies his trade
Knowing why his caged brother sings
Must pluck the feather and flay the skin
To deny the shame sober morning brings
