The Last Song

The Last Song

When the last bird ends it’s song,

Who among us will hear it?

Who will learn from it's plaintive call,

A sorrow told in notes crying,

Mourning the breaking of a world

That it could not save by singing.

When the last flower blooms,

Defiant against the poisons,

Who will smell it's perfume,

Vibrant among the decay surrounding,

A defeated call to the bees

Who once visited and are no more.

When the last fire sputters,

Deprived of the air,

It had mindlessly consumed,

As it burned away the evidence of us,

Who had mindfully created it,

And did not care enough.

When the last bird laments it's last song,

Will it agonize it's passing,

Or bemoan it's lone existence?

Will it ache for a world it never knew?

Or grieve the passage of life wasted?

Or will it merely be a bird singing?

When the last bird ends it's song,

Will we know?

Cliff Lake 7/23/2023

CliffSongs