A Poem - Untitled

I heard a bird singing out my window this morning.
It sang the song of revolution.
The call of one, both small and meek,
Shouting out to the bigger ones for help.

It sang the song of long-suffered pain,
Sang the song of the ardored worker.
It sang the song of the starving child,
Sang the song of the loving mother.

It sang the song of mankind's struggle,
Sang the song of the life-long slave.
It sang the song of the wishing follower,
Sang the song of an aspiring leader.

I heard a bird singing out my window this morning.
It sang the song of evolution,
The call of many, myriad and strong,
Shouting proudly to their ancestors before them.