A bird is inspiring this song, coming from the dawn, tells me
A meaning, the lyrics that stir in my soul, then flies off in silence
Flies off whither songs go, and my own song breaks opens a call
Attenborough asked how many songs has this world lost
As the birds fall dead to earth, where do the songs, David, go?
The sound of a flute, the Indians say, comes and goes, just so
In equilibrium, my joy, my song, I’m showing you, thus
A flute of joy carries my soul – to where we go, G, let the song
Carry you, in joy and sorrow, a song to show you my all
And ends to listen, domme morrigan, to your returning
Call, that bird, that flute – your soul, in song, carrying me
Across the dawn, in the equilibrium of a magical realm
Blessed Graffiti Poesy 
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