When my skin has faded from taught to leather,
And the wrinkles have deepened from life’s weather,
Will I be able to look back and surmise
That I have lived a life I’d like to call wise?

Perhaps not, for I know I have made
The choice to hide from the sun and play in the shade.
There life was cooler, relaxing, but dark.
I could hear the faint cries of the Summer Song Lark.

Warm melodies did cascade from its beak,
Drawing me out of my mild and meek.
My soul seemed to lift from its roots in the ground
And desired to loose the chains that had bound.

At the edge of the shade, the tune had grown braver:
The Summer Song Lark had become my soul’s savior.
Chain by chain it had broken me free,
Nevermore forced to pay despair’s crushing fee.

One foot did pass bravely from darkness to light.
All the while, the other did pause in its fright.
The pause was not long, though, the song was now soaring.
I stepped into the sunlight, now ever pouring.

Gently embraced was I in its arms,
Vanquished was darkness and all its false charms.
Enveloped in love and inspired by hope,
I became more “myself”, a “myself” who could cope.

So, when my skin has faded from taught to leather,
And my wrinkles have deepened from life’s weather,
Will I be able to look back and surmise
That I have lived a life I’d like to call wise?

Indeed, I will. I’ll know I’ll have lived
A life of failures and triumphs, as the Ancients once did.
For, you see, no change is a change made so stark
Than that by the song of the Summer Song Lark.