“Wingsong”

Lean into the loom of language—

weave your voice through ancient hymns,

pluck dawn’s first petal like treasure,

let it tremble on your tongue.

Stride barefoot through river chords,

borrow cadence from rushing currents,

dress your lines in monsoon breath,

watch each syllable bloom to night.

Peer past the rainbow’s arch

to find the shadowed colour—

where silence drapes itself

in velvet, waiting to sing.

Earn your feathers in the forge

of dew and dusk and daring thought,

then crack the sky with laughter—

your wings, unbound at last.

.