My soul drifts along as if it's course was chosen. Yet is seems to drift along as if it were a feather, Echoing whispers and a voice that sends the feather on its long journey.
The feather drifts downward, it's path being guided. Being held by the breath of God, the soul follows the same.
The soul and the feather's destiny know that someday they must both come to rest in the gentle hands of the Lord.
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My soul drifts along as if it's course was chosen.
Yet is seems to drift along as if it were a feather,
Echoing whispers and a voice that sends the feather on its long journey.
The feather drifts downward, it's path being guided.
Being held by the breath of God,
the soul follows the same.
The soul and the feather's destiny know that
someday they must both come to rest in the gentle hands of the Lord.