I am not sure, at dawn cannot be sure;
perhaps my newly-recovered soul leads to egocentricity,
but it feels the birds, chitter-chattering in grandeur
as though they direct their sweet, individual voices just to me;

I could never be entirely sure, could never really know
if indeed they invite me to return to their world outside,
embracing, encouraging, their beaks as cupid's arrows,
urging me to join them, to release myself again to 'try';

................
(I cannot be sure,
but I feel I simply 'know',
that it has lost its black allure,
that then ever-present crow

that, though I couldn't have really been quite certain,
seemed almost to reside by my windowledge,
swooping, and circling, daring me to be beaten,
as I could not help but hear its ominous sound of death) :

.................

I cannot be entirely sure... but I truly feel it again;
that I will rise, far away from the ghosts of times since past,
that the inward-shining sun will battle with the outside rain,
and, released, this once more joyful spirit will soar, to the sky, at last.