Songbirds herald sunrise. Their melodies burble forth, making everything a symphony. Those feathered arias scribe beauty onto the void of a world alone and fractured from itself. The sun rises a little higher, anoints one and all with a taste of healing gold. Songbirds follow suit; offer a voice to those who have no voice. When they fly away, their music still lingers in the air. It is a hymn that slips between the cracks to guard the heart—aural honey whose sweetness deepens with every listening.