the birds of time

their eyes walk into us they burn us out of where we always lived and followed ; we won't remember the old ways we had which we thought where news ways ; the time has to be there and things have to fall down to even allow these great birds to be able fly in our Skys; they will come by night and we will sleep as they stare into eyes

No hunting horn can prickle their tightly feathered neck; their ears stay tight to other than moon ; they bring with them another world and here they come. You don't want to hear them as it will drive you mad as its worlds below like cake to us ; we just need a whisker from their wing beat thats all the love you ask for.