When the heavenly rooster sings
the morning harkens,
but sporting outspread wings
will make the cosmos darken.

Rein in rebellion
under folded pinion.
Crow the crimson day,
be not Chaos’ minion.

O beak above clouds
that speaks so loudly,
calm your clucking
and cool your claws
in the ocean spray,
as waves rise and fall.

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