I am an owl

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I am an owl
in a silent, lonely world
and my face is affable
with flattened beak
and giant eyes
and tufts of feathers and fur…
they say that i am wise
behind my comic countenance
and indeed there is a setting
in my shoulders and my wings
that speaks of elegance and poise
and a strange dark mystery…
none can know my thoughts
for i fly only alone
and when i speak i talk to myself
and my voice is sad and low
speaking of all the tragedy
there is in the world…
Though at night i am strong
and i catch prey with ease
and terrify the shades themselves
and enjoy the brilliant moon
when i wake the crows plague me
they circle me and cry
accusing me of all the deaths
all the meals i’d taken
and i just cower there and cry
all my courage gone in the light 
of the sun where all can see me…
but always i endure
and wait patiently for night
when i can spread my wings again
and feel elation at the wind and think
“so this is what the poets speak of
so this is what the humans crave
this is the thing called inspiration
this joy, this dark cold night,
where i am ruler, where i am wise,
where i am comic, and when i cry,
and when i feel the most alive”
oh i would never change this fact
i’m proud to be an owl
i’d never be anything more or less
oh yes
i am an owl…

 

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