Flight

The flight of a bird Cuts through the still air of twilight in Lorca A sliver of moon Young bright and crescent is overhead With a turn of the earth The sun is submerged, until tomorrow Deep night crystal sky Star drift with it's points of light Sparks from a holy fire, in flight In the constellations overhead I search for my old friend Where he went I was never quite sure He was loved, disappeared And was seen no more A spark from a holy fire in flight