Unsung Beauty

If a bird sings,
To an empty wood
Is his song still meaningful?
Is his sound still beautiful?

Violent devastation
Took the peace,
And destroyed his home.
Yet he eagerly starts again.

Watch as he hops, collecting sticks
Carefully examining for any sign of damage or misprint.
No time for second thought
Everything must be the same.

For he longed to play his song.

Without the trees to hear his call,
He folds his knees and waits patiently.


This bird, now turned to stone.
Long after the sun brought new growth.
His windpipe had crumbled; his being long gone.
Forever lost is the beauty of his call.

Instead borne is the beauty of his stone.


Life will go on, but things will never be how they once were.

◄ Shatter the Stone Duck

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Hilary Walker

Tue 19th May 2020 07:19

Love this, beautiful & poignant.


Tue 19th May 2020 05:25

Strife, Struggle and Change is the only thing constant in this world, sentiment is often misplaced

A bird singing in an empty forest might be a terrible thing, but it is then when the bird will find true happiness maybe on account of it's own song.

True happiness after all, comes undisturbed and from within

A lovely poem showcasing the bittersweet nature of change,


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