There was a Quail…

A mystical bird, closer to the Sky, closer to the Sun

There was a Quail…

There was a quail, yes a quail, wounded in the wing

Looking up in wonder at the Hunter and the Sky

There was a quail, yes a quail, forgetting how to sing

His flame bleeding back into the shadow of a sigh

There was a man, yes a man, wounded in the wing

Half in life, half in death, having lost the power to sing

Looking up in wonder at the Hunter and the Sky

Learning how to live, learning how to die

They came from the forest, they came from the hill

The birds gathered round to hear the wisdom of the Song

They leaned closer to his lips, but his lips were chill

And the Sky was deep, and the River long

He moved his lips, yes his lips, tried to murmur Song

But the Sky was deep, and the River long

Some say he murmured the Hunter is My Brother

Some say he murmured the Hunter is The Other

Some say they heard nothing, nothing at all

Some say they saw a tear, one tear

On a feather neath his eye

Some say this was a sign

That he would live—that he would die

Some say The Oracle remains alive today

Some say The Oracle has nothing left to say

Some say the quail is still wounded in the wing

Some say the quail will rise one day and sing

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