A revolution is born

The rays of rising sun
Weave a mystic harp
Its strings of pure gold
Delicate yet sharp
Alone it feebly sings
To my wounded heart
In the morning's serenity
The melody starts
Once cheerful in the past
Saddened now it sounds
For what's only heard
Is death's hollow sound
Gone is the chirping
For all birds have fled
The eyes of the rivers
Cry blood instead
The blowing of the breeze
Carries distant screams
Of those who cry out
For their stolen dreams
Different now it sounds
The song of early morn
For butterflies weep
For their flowers torn
And the whispers between
Tree branches are denied
They sway no more
For trees have died
Horizons burn today
Shaking is the ground
Injustice is no longer
Tolerated by the crowds
A revolution is born
That is the song of ...today's early morn