Whisper of a White Nightingale

The principles of old,
like the ancient fig tree,
unyielding,
despite the wind of change.
I live by such rules and laws which I abide
to determine black from white,
clarity from the grey.

I am flawed.

And I find salvation only by the bonds
that I am blessed with.
People who despite my imperfections,
call me friend.

And for that I will love them.

Oh what hurt finds me,
when betrayal looms
like a white nightingale that whispers the song of forlorn.
Faith be blinded.
I know not where to journey from here.