The breath of newborn words are cast out into the silence
Shattering its mirrored surface, into a thousand tiny shards.
Ripple upon ripple builds, until the breath becomes a shout,
Stirring as a butterfly catalyzing storms.
I am a Starling caught in the murmuration of the flock,
Winging to and fro, as indecision casts its spell.
I am subject to the wills of the wind, and mercurial tides,
pushed and pulled in the murmuration of life.