I Opened Your Book

I opened your book and what did I read?
Whispers of heavenly death murmur’d I hear

Only an hour before I drowned a mortally wounded fledgling,
too young to die not having lived to fly.

Only after the god-play, huddled in silence
do I laugh and hear laughter
and pluck words like feathers from sleeping hours

I was there to drink all these tears
of unfathomable living and dying.

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