Where a Skylark Rests

Chase your dreams, you skylark! Impossibly near it, Saving lives your hallmark, Beg to persevere it — Fly like hope, the bleeding broken pray you bear it.

You were made for heaven, Free as the ocean’s air, Something strangely given, An answered, breathless prayer — The kind of soul this broken world dare not spare.

I am ordinary, Cleaning up this yard, Two small hearts I carry, A tender, tethered bard — Soberly minding the mundane while you fly hard.

My greatest fear: that fire Takes you from life’s fight, In spite of our desire And my poor man’s might — Will I feel you slip away or just lose your light?

If the voices crowd you And no one knows what’s fake, If the darkness grounds you And you start to break — Angel, you were born to fly, let me soothe your ache.

I want to hold you close But never hold you back, Still the bird I love most Chooses to leave the track — You were born to fly, so show me what cage to crack.

When the wind is strongest And you long to nest, When the night feels longest And you’re not your best — Born to fly through storm and blight, yet here you may rest.

Must a skylark choose — Built to fly and redeem — Valley or open blues, Or somewhere in between? Could love hold you gently while you chase every dream?

by Justin to Kara on Feb 23, 2026, after Shelley, NEEDTOBREATHE, and Nickel Creek