Do ye hear it?

Can ye hear?

 The call of thy merle is poignant in its leer.

He is calling me, he is near.

Thee merle in thy quagmire.

His pitch is higher and grows.

Do ye hear?

Tis mine time to go. He sneers.

Austere is thy merle. Bent on thy ear.

Thou are now closer, can ye hear?

Complacent and disposed, thy merle in thy marsh.

Dark as night, thy merle tis, flight at night, where the lic'hen lives.

Fruitless and with out soul, he collects thee souls of others, as he goes.

Trespass not upon thee.

I call to thy merle in thy tree.

Persistent in his ploy.

 To take thy soul from thee.

But I too, will be, thy protector, of thee.

For thy soul has already been claimed, by one greater then this merle.

Thy one whom is greater then all, that thee may know.

Here on this passage, we do flow.

This time of short existents that thee will be, as we decide who claims us, before we exceed.

Be gone thy merle in thee tree, whom comes from wickedness in thee Quagmire.

Who thinks to steal thy soul from me?

As I live in this passage like the lic'hen.

Alone and flowerless I may seem,

I am not as alone, as I might appear.

I have a keeper, I hold dear.