I awake early, before anyone

alone, alert – 

conscious of my existence. 

Perched on my branch, 

I look down at the quilt of birds slumbering there

and wait and wait,

every morning 

again, and 

again. 

I look through the stained void

of a life with no ends.

The darkness stills in a pitch-black atmosphere

around me

I hear and listen

for light.

A sudden thud, 

someone called its name. 

Tou-tou. 

Tou-tou. 

The bird looked around at

dim trees and the grass

gloomy flowers and clouds

As white as the snow

awake,

a rooster stood right next to me.

A grand and beautiful bird

with a radiating red crown,

and yellow fur that looked like stars, 

Boldness,

the rooster grabbed my hand

And climbed up to the tallest peak, 

GO–GO! 

The morning broke, 

and there it was,

An enormous burning red globe rose so high up to the clouds

The Tou Tou bird screeched. 

And just as that first morning broke into a prism of light,

two birds singing under the newborn sun. 

They had finally been given their voice.