Swan Song

The passionate young man on his way to his love Walked by a lake carrying a snow-white dove Inside his shirt he held it close to his heart When he heard a song - an enchanting work of art The melody was captivating, full of sorrow - The cries of a soul for whom there’s no tomorrow An unknown fear gripped the young man’s heart Dark crevasses of life to him were an unknown part So full of life and hope, inevitability he never had to face The source of the irresistible sound he wished to trace He looked behind the dense brushes hiding the water On seeing a wondrous swan his agitated mind grew calmer He stood there mesmerized, the scene not comprehending And a chill he felt from the bottom of his spine ascending Why does something as beautiful as this must end? Against a dark premonition himself he could not defend The song told him everything that was, and ever will be As he stood there listening, in his mind’s eye he could see The birth of dreams and hopes, the path and the finish, The igniting spark, the flame and the death of every wish The swan sang his last and was swallowed by the lake Slowly the young man from his vision did wake He felt the dove in his shirt frantically flutter He gently held it high and let it go, not a word did he utter Innocence cannot build his nest in a bosom laden And burdened with knowledge so dark and craven The young man continued his journey to meet his darling A long shadow followed him in his footsteps crawling Across the lake on yonder side, hidden by the morning fog An old man, frail and haggard, sat quietly on a bone-white log He heard the swan too, and watched it get swallowed by the deep But at this lonely funeral his half closed eyes did not weep He felt it in his bones, and knew the end was near So the swan song filled his feeble mind with fear Since he was a young man he searched for the answer The question being: What comes when to death we do surrender? He looked to the sky but in vain, he begged but to no avail The heavens did not open; his body and spirit were broken When with the last notes of the swan song resounding Asking for a sign, he saw a dove above the clouds climbing On his crooked legs he stood as straight as he could Raising his hands he pleaded, “Take me, if you would” The solemn swan song became a victorious celebration, A joyous symphony of the never ending glory of creation The frail old body fell back onto the bone-white log Never again to emerge from that otherworldly fog But a peaceful smile on the old man’s face remained Having his long-lost innocence of youth finally regained