born to be a star, champion to any race, cloth to <br />fine victory, as the bastion of strength rise into the <br />sparkling sky, where the highest goal is to fly <br /> <br />the rain pours my hand and body giggling the narrow <br />of the eye i see, where the trembling skin touches <br />my whether skin, waiting the cooled heart bits to <br />end <br /> <br />the mastery of the moon cover the shadow of the <br />night clouds, moving to hide in the confetti’s of wind <br />that crumple the chime of a wishing bell as it echo in <br />a distance heart apart <br /> <br />come journey with me, travel and ride in my winged <br />song of praise, for know not the blind can see; but <br />an eye that tell of the beauty of a nightingale melody, <br />for the harmony of the harp witness the soul <br />immortality <br /> <br />turn me not and lead me to go, the air that breathe is <br />no where to sink, as the sky fall into the ground <br />and kiss the blissfulness of each passing hour has <br />something to play; nay! let the rise come in a <br />sweeping death of a returning scent of home <br /> <br />let the young flesh move for a while, like a seagull <br />of wings nestle in the surfing wave to stay, wonder <br />as it kites in the nightingale night it flies.......<br /><br />Antonio Liao<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/nightingale-dropping/
