Poem -

Nightingale

Nightingale

The Nightingale is a bird that sings it’s sad song in the midst of the night by its lonesome
It perches itself in the midnight hour and chirps a song that only falls upon those alive in the throughs of the nocturne 
It sings upon the deaf ears of those who have gone to rest and to the very stars that pepper the skyline overtop their heads

The same night where the stars are aligned to sing a symphony of praise to their maker
The God of the universe who forged the flaming infernos of the cosmos with but a flick of his fingers

The same God that gives the Nightingale a stage in which to sing, 
A perch which it can stand upon and let the melancholy notes of its heart ring 
It sings, it cries out into the night, the lonely male Nightingale sings woe upon himself because he has no female to perch with
And in essence it feels it has no purpose
It sings those hollow notes from its weary soul yet the sad song is sung so beautifully that if I told you how it truly felt you have a hard time believing me and opt to tell me that I’m wrong
A Nightingale with no companion
A singer without an audience
If it weren’t for the context in which I’m saying it then this would be bad poetry at its finest

Yet I can sympathize with bird of broken hearts,
The Nightingale is one that cries out because it feels like it has nobody to love,
But if it simply shifted the object of its affection to the one that put breath in his lonely lungs 
Then maybe it’s heart strings could produce and epic orchestra of majesty when strummed 
And thus,
With one shift of perspective,
With one glance to God above
The majesty of the nighttime symphony has begun

The Nightingale is a bird that sits atop its lonely perch and sings for the world to hear
But if his world is his own maker than he can know for certain that he is all ears
I, a mere fletching, 
a lonely Nightingale, who has looked Long and hard along the horizon seeking his mate,
When the direction of my song should not have been aimed at a queen, but To the contrary, A King!
And as I bellow my song, let it not be one that brings sadness into the winds of the night,
Let it be one that offers praise to God in coming of the morning light
 

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