The nightingale was born yesterday
with its eyes fixed on the heavens.
The Polaris knew nothing about the new born,
just blinked into the oblivion.
It heard no sound - earthly or cosmic.
No winds or thunderclaps.
While the darkness surrounded him,
the pressure inside wouldn’t let it collapse.
Our lonely star had lived a long life
Space was his only comrade.
He was the one with directions
What earthling could come to his aide?
With only specks for a view
Brilliance could be blinding to hang on
Everything was a mere speck.
An atom. Too small to waste time on.
The new born grew up beaming at its brilliance.
Flitting from tree to tree
Flaunting its brown overalls
With a red tail so charming, even the trees would agree.
Whistling, trilling and gurgling through the day
Waiting for the night to come
when the distant companion would shine again,
and the quiet reigned over the diurnal bedlam.
The night songstress had seen less,
Tall trees protected her grail.
While she sang out earthly stories to her phoenix friend.
On high octaves and higher scales.
Content with his twinkling along,
But he neither heard nor saw who sang.
The nightingale sang all day and night.
Sleep would just waste her time.
And she gave up on sleep to sing
through the few days she could stay alive.
Now the nightingale lays buried in earth
No more songs to sing to the sky.
The star still keeps twinkling away
While the trees and the winds whisper to flak
“She was a new born alright,
but was named some 1000 yrs back”.
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