I bang the pots.I stir the bushes.Fly away. Fly away.Take to the sky, you little birds.Take to the heavens, you big birds.Don’t stay long! I say,Just long enough to leave your curse upon them,Or in other words, your blessing, The blessing of the ruin that you took early,The one that they’ll find late which they’ll find outIs the key to their deliverance.But whatever you do, move on.Don’t stay long, lest you take sides in the coming battle,The last and most senseless battle of them allWhen the earthbound folk will kill For the sake of killing.You don’t yet knowHow anger can clip your wings And wet your feathers.And drown you In a causeThat you’ll regret long, long, after they are gone.And it’s coming soon. It’s coming soon.But not for those Who can still fly away and keep on flying,Not for those who keep on moving outOf the life that was expectedAnd into the voice That points the way To the Unseen Holy Place.

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