Sparrow: #Anthem 14

Some of us find shelter. Some of us find it easily, for the rest it is difficult. For the rest, why it is difficult, varies. Some of us just can never find shelter.

Who will love a little Sparrow?
Who’s traveled far and cries for rest?
“Not I,” said the Oak Tree,
“I won’t share my branches with
no sparrow’s nest,
And my blanket of leaves won’t warm
her cold breast.”

We’ve heard of the excuses. Go away, I have nothing to offer and what I may have to offer, will not work for you. A predetermined manner of avoidance.

Who will love a little Sparrow
And who will speak a kindly word?
“Not I,” said the Swan,
“The entire idea is utterly absurd,
I’d be laughed at and scorned if the
other Swans heard.”

The haughty ones. The snobs. The less said, the better.

Who will take pity in his heart,
And who will feed a starving sparrow?
“Not I,” said the Golden Wheat,
“I would if I could but I cannot I know,
I need all my grain to prosper and grow.”

The apologists. Aren’t they the worst ones?

Who will love a little Sparrow?
Will no one write her eulogy?
“I will,” said the Earth,
“For all I’ve created returns unto me,
From dust were ye made and dust ye shall be.”

The last truth. It is not the end, however. Our knowledge of a potential end guides us. But unless we knock on the doors that reject us, we will never find the place where we belong.


I’ve known this song for a long time. I’ve always loved it. In recent times, it has started making sense. I hope you enjoy it, as much as I have.

[Text that is right-aligned in italics, is © of one of the greatest song-writers, ever. If you would like to read about a philosophical take on this song, read this.]


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