The Swallow of the Morn and Night

Sometimes, we feel lost. Sometimes, things we do are very much routinary. Sometimes, things around us that happen don't make any sense. To add to that more, sometimes, we just hate the whole of the day and all in it.

There must be some reason why we sometimes feel that way. We all need purpose. Without purpose, we are like a beheaded rooster with only little time left to move our feet. There is uncertainty.

I chose swallows to represent my persona because it completely epitomizes routinary (if there's such a word) life. They represent fragility and carefree-ness. Their eyes, too, amaze me, as their fleeting life also does.

I've dedicated this poem before for somebody whom I've observed was really, really empty. I think that this time, I should be dedicating this one to myself. :))

The Swallow of The Morn and Night

In the skies of white
It lunges from its lair
It poses to take flight
And glides in the air

It comes out, appears
From its hollow nest
To banish all its fears
And to find real rest

From a long way
It here today has come
Fled from being prey
Seeks home all this time

In the silence of its land
It ponders on its quest
It's vision, fragile, grand
Has seen east to west

Every morn and night
It doesn't stop nor pause
I hope it sees its light
And someday find its cause

I'm grateful that I'm no swallow. Thanks to God for all that... :)

Note: I wrote this last October 2, 2008. Just re-posting since I'm transferring my posts from another blog. :)