seeking the messenger

 you make your vision plain in every word

the pulse of nature moving in full heat

and yet we strain for sight of the right bird

 

nothing is clear all eyesight is quite blurred

the trip is over none will come to greet

you make your vision plain in every word

 

since on your tongue all truth has been conferred

but this hard fact we're made of bone and meat

and yet we strain for sight of the right bird

 

proclaiming season's changes have recurred

but time is motion every year more fleet

you make your vision plain in every word

 

including those that we have not yet heard

break out of silence still our peace is sweet

and yet we strain for sight of the right bird

 

to wake the morning and to cry absurd

notes of redemption for each empty street

you make your vision plain in every word

and yet we strain for sight of the right bird