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Keeper of Dawn - Part 2
PART 2 of 2
VII. MOLTING PROPHECY BREATH (Autumn – The Stripping Season)
in autumn's ritual undressing
i stand vulnerable
pin-feathers tender as stigmata
breaking through skin
the hens bear witness
even the cock-king must shed armor
bleed new beauty
from wounds that look like weakness
and comb still crooked from yesterday’s crow
but feel like evolution
each fallen feather carries memory
one from facing down the dog
one from weathering the storm
one still warm with yesterday's arrogance
these fallen feathers will grow into tomorrow’s dawn
this is renewal
resurrection happens in the dark seasons
when growing outweighs keeping
when molting is chosen over mummification
new feathers come in
sharp as thorns
bright as prophecy
i understand
every ending is an egg
with beginnings inside
the barn fills with my scattered past
tomorrow i'll be reborn
in bronze and emerald fire
wearing authority earned
through surrender
---
VIII. WINTER TESTAMENT BREATH (December – The Silence Keeper)
i have crowed through blizzards
that silence lesser prophets
my voice a heat-source
in a world gone white and still
snow muffles everything but truth:
the hens' hunger
the crunch of ice beneath my claws
my determination to split the cold
to prove that life persists
beneath winter's soft lie
my red comb burns against pale morning
a tiny flag of hubris
waving at the snow like a cocky general
beacon for creatures balanced
between earth and sky
flight and fall
sacred and ordinary days
at zero degrees my breath becomes mist
each crow a ghost rising toward heaven
still here. still burning
still refusing surrender
to winter's soft lie
…and also to the temptation of a nap in the hay
a general pausing mid-battle
plotting glory in dreams.
---
Oracle - The Frost softly speaks:
i could silence you
with one degree more cold
but i choose to leave
your voice unfrozen
even winter needs
its prophets.
---
IX. LEGACY TRANSMISSION BREATH (Spring Return – The Teaching)
one day another rooster will stand here
his young chest swelling with the ancient song
…probably trying to crow before his coffee
still smelling yesterday’s feed
dust clinging to feathers
i will teach him the weight of waking the world
the joy of being the sound
that splits darkness
the responsibility of calling existence back
every dawn—
without exception
without vacation
without retirement
and when my time arrives
i'll bend my neck to necessity
knowing i served the great rotation
the miracle of light over shadow
of small voices calling big worlds to life
my final crow will be surrender not command
gratitude not herald
sound of a life spent serving
the beauty of a day
i helped to birth
he will learn what i learned
that prophecy is not prediction
but participation
the courage to sing the world
into being again and again
until singing becomes breathing
breathing becomes being
and occasionally forgetting the words mid-crow
being becomes the only prayer
that matters
---
Oracle - the Sunrise speaks:
you think you call me
but i call through you
you think you wake the world
but i wake you
to wake the world
we are conspiracy
not hierarchy
---
X. ETERNAL RETURN BREATH (Back to 3 AM – The Ouroboros)
at dusk, when i tuck my head beneath darkness
i taste mortality—the mineral grain
of another day surrendered
but already in the limbic hour before dawn
tomorrow's song builds in my chest
like thunderstorm
like creation's first creation
asking to be born through this fragile fierce
feathered instrument
i am rooster
keeper of time
prophet of resurrection
witness to the daily wars
of light and dark
predator and prey
hope and dust’s quiet democracy
in the sanctuary of first light
i stand
crimson-crowned prophet
of the barnyard,
my voice a chalice
holding fire
ready to pour honey-lightning
into the world's patient ear
ready to crow the universe awake
with existence tearing joyfully
along its perforated edge
COCK-A-DOODLE-DOO!
here—now—always!
still burning bright!
still beautiful!
still alive!
still singing the cosmos into being!
in the beginning was the Word
and the Word was crow-song,
and the crow-song was God clearing His throat
and it was good, and it was very good
and it was the only good there ever was
the courage to break silence with the sound of being alive
---
CODA: THE QUANTUM ROOSTER
[all Oracle voices speaking simultaneously]:
FENCE POST: I have witnessed…
EGG: I dream of light…
BARN OWL: Your song ends my hunt…
FENCE WIRE: I carry electricity…
FROST: I could silence you…
SUNRISE: You think you call me…
beneath it all, the eternal rhythm:
breathe—crow—breathe—crow—breathe—crow
until breathing becomes crowing
crowing becomes breathing
the singer and the song merge
prophet and prophecy entwined
keeper and dawn become one
COCK-A-DOODLE-DOO!
COCK-A-DOODLE-DOO!
COCK-A-DOODLE-DOO!
(echo fading then reborn)
…and the day awakens
in his voice
in his breath
in his being
in every crow
Copyright ©
Daniel Henry Rodgers
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