I sing from my perch in the twilight air,
A song of warning, a song of care.
The wind is thick with a gathering tide,
And shadows lengthen where light once shined.

Once, my voice was soft and bright,
A melody spun in golden light.
But now the echoes crack and wane,
A trembling note, a whispered pain.

I see the talons, clenched and cruel,
Feathers sharpened into rule.
They promise safety, they promise might,
But darkness follows in their flight.

My brothers, my sisters, hear my call!
I sing before the heavens fall.
The storm is woven in their cries,
Their tongues are sweet but full of lies.

They teach you fear, they teach you rage,
They set your hearts in iron cage.
They tell you trust is meant to fade,
That love and kinship must be weighed.

But we were born for sky and breeze,
For open hearts and peaceful trees.
Not every beak must bite and tear,
Not every wing must claw the air.

I plead before the night descends,
Before the war of wings begins.
Let not the fire take the nest,
Let not the strong betray the rest!

For if we turn, if we divide,
The sky itself is cast aside.
And in the ash, when silence calls,
No songs remain—no voice at all.

But still, I sing. I hold my tune.
A hope that dawn will find us soon.
That reason wakes, that love takes flight,
And turns us back toward the light.

So hear me now, while songs endure,
While wings are free and hearts are pure.
For though the dark may rise and loom,
A billion voices still can bloom!