The bird sings a tune because it simply has to.
As it awakes and takes each step,
There’s a song deep inside—waiting to rise.
It might not always feel like the brightest shine,
but as it rises from within,
it breaks through —
slowly, steadily.
And then,
you begin to see the light’s reflection
has made it’s way —
a realness that is
genuine, true, and honest.
Not because the world is perfect,
But because it was made to sing.
Even after the storm,
Even when the sky is still gray,
It lifts its voice anyway.
So must we.