Nestling's Lament Poem by AFFAQ NABI

At morning's glare, the nestling made his cry.
"O mother mine, release me to the breeze,
That I may drift where ghostly zephyrs fly,
And sail on sighs of dim, enchanted seas."
At noon's fierce blaze he moaned, "the heavens call,
Their burning rings invite my soul to flame."
She spake, "beware—the height precedes the fall,
The abyss awaits the rash who stake the game."
At vesper hour he breathed, "the stars are near,
Their spectral light shall guide me through the shade."
She warned, "yon void conceals both death and fear,
Its silent wings eclipse the vows you've made."
Alas, should her watch grow still, or love decay,
The fledgling flies—into the night's dismay.