And when the lady realised
She was really a bird
She felt light
Material things dissolved
And the notion of form became absurd
As something deeper
Stirred
A feeling had grown wings
As a conciousness, not of this world
Took flight
Expanding as it flew
High up into
The night sky
Connecting the dots
Of the giant twinkling puzzle
She made a picture in that sky
A picture
That made the onlooking earth, cry
Her love, the night red, it had stained
With something that can only be felt
And not explained
No memory had she, of her black spots
They were not of this world,
Where form is irrelevant
And the lady is a bird.
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