I plucked this feather from my cap...The bird is still in the air.

I cannot teach a sparrow how to sing. but I -
can sing to a sparrow. but not of war.
stars are on my lips. caked in dust and Merlot.
a red stain upon the lyric. numbing the core.
I dread to do the thing that stops the heart.  but I'm
the pocket with the hole full of lint.
it never was, that I be nothing more than apart.
I am always close enough to repent.
should ever I stray to where the light
is Dark.