are we all thorn birds
singing, or searching for our painful thorn?
and is it our fear of death
that prevents us from finding it?
knowing, deep inside
that our calling is our ending
that our life is complete
when we do what we came here to do:
sing our most beautiful song
is that why the brave ones die young?
maybe, just maybe
we are not here to live forever
we are here to sing
and being alive, still
there’s a thorn to be found
and a song to be sung
and to die for
According to an old Celtic legend, there is a bird that sings just once in its life. Leaving its nest, it searches for a bush with long, sharp thorns. Once found, it impales itself on the biggest thorn, and begins to sing its final song. As it dies, it rises above its own agony, out-singing both the lark and the nightingale.
The thorn bird pays with its life for just one song, but the whole world stills to listen.
we search for purpose – our song
but what if it’s not our purpose we need to find
but the pain inside that goes so deep
we cannot but sing as it kills us