As the eye of He is apart-

Signifying his creatures to lie at bay

The gentle haze of His powerful guardian is of start-

In which signifies the nocturnal a new day

Creatures of such,

Being I, the ever great and mighty owl-

To whom birds of day are indebted a sigh,

and greet subtly with a scowl

These day birds of blue- 

Understand my words, do not

Denotation, at the most, but connotation they owe no clue

For all I ask is reason to be new found, within their minds it be sought

All of my dark days are accustomed-

To hooting songs of your name

The songs of which birds of blue find no trust in

While I sing only, "My king, my king, my king to who I am dame"

When your wings are to unfurl-

And consecutively befuddle me with beauty

My aubade from within is hurled-

And awakens the birds of blue with unsettlement to be

They chirp 'neath the eye of He-

As my guardian parts way

No rest will be found for me

An insight of somber within me, stays

Birds of blue ponder of themselves they can clip me my wings of sempiternal

But when they're decaying- blanketed by moss

And a young fawn bestows their fading blue-gray a urinal

My ecstacy will uphold not of cross

Wing within wing

Fly away we must

But until then shall I sing

And birds of blue have no trust