Saturday, April 17, 2010

Flight of the Geese in White 1999

A random cascade of fluttering beauty all about,
What teaming glorious wing beats,
They're the whitish plumes,
Which seemingly motion in waves upon one after another,
Some black trimmed with precious delicacy,
The rough and almost vague waters grey with distance,
Have seen their migration throughout the millennia,
Even the beautiful cries within the flock hold coherency,
If my wings could burst through these fibres,
I would soar with these adventures,
Climbing ever higher to kiss my Maker,
Loving everything Dearly,
Eventually knowing the journey,
Would lead us to Peace.

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