I walked in all wither in the dark alley
A long, narrow, serpentine labyrinth
Of fake hubris, false hopes in dismay
as Reason began to revolt from within.
Then I heard the melody from yonder
High over the mean concrete fences
Like a dryad’s melody from a flower
twinkling twilights on her wings.
There I arose from the dark slowly
And walked into the sound of light
In the felicity of the unknown suddenly
Beckoning me with the promise of delight.
As I came to the corner of the maze
Beyond the alley of another corner
There it was in the distant misty haze.
I saw a bluebird waiting for me pretty, ever.
P.S.: The bluebird, as a symbol of hope and happiness because of its fanciful prettiness and rare presence in nature, has been a popular element of folklore. Albeit the French version by Mme D’Aulnoy is famous, my choice is a Russian version of the bluebird, as called upon by Anton Denikin, a military leader of the Volunteer Army in the Russian Civil War during the ill-fated Ice March. And this is my version of recreating the bluebird as a paragon of beautiful hope, the last saving grace for the forsaken left in Pandora’s Box, twinkling like the stars in the Milky Way embroidered on the nightly sky.