Skylark

In the night of the human day
we live through the restless dark
of the wretched soul
where the incandescent spark
becomes the break in the dawn
in the part of the heart
which is the skylark

and the spark becomes the wings
of a bird in flight and the bird
has no memory of the endless night
just the feel of the freedom breeze as it sings
on its feathers
forever forever
forever