To the birds that fly in midnight gloom

To sing as morning daybreak comes

You are hope to me as I assumed

the only life is one succumbed

to droll conformation to a silenced nation

to hateful consumption of dramatic commotion

to wrist-cutting wenches who wish for redemption

to mayhem magnified by media--misstated

to the lotus that blooms in spring daybreak

that proclaims to the world that "I am free"

You are hope to me as I partake

On the words that simply state "to be"

to be as the leaves that descend into fate

to be as the wave that crashes to choice

to be as the sun that rises to aid

to be as the bird--a beacon of hope