From the heights
can be seen winding roads that are tread,
the miles do tell on a foot's sole;
any steep climb that bars along way
shall only be conquest by Faith.
Years do wither a mortal pale cheek
but none the interior of the fortress
where a soul abides waiting
that occurrence to happen;
a union, two shall never more be separate.

Announced by one hundred white doves joining,
their feathered rise beating a thunderous roll....
winged span so sweet and swift to carry
all heavy clouds to that lighter clean breathable air.

Brief is their life stay with us,
so in multitude do they count significance...
to be long enough here bringing message;
long enough present to symbolize;
casting their shadow in flock caught between
the Earth's flowing movements; the Sun's invincible blaze.

On frozen war grounds, after a hundred years battle,
crimson blood that once flowed, now turned the colour of soil...
They yet ~Sing~ on that same desolate land.

Over encampments of a struggling nation,
displaced from four walls safe, protecting fierce their young...
They greet ~"Home"~ to the discouraged, to the forlorn.

In any high concrete city too loud to listen or hear,
you shall find their scattered presence
nevertheless to remind all this is ~Nature~ God is Living.

Young girl resting chin in small hand
gazing thru her opened breeze window to ponder mystery;
from nearby perch they treat as a stage, a great performance
for this little ~One~ they deliver a beautiful story.

Their flight patterns have traced all down life's pages,
giving lift where there was lowness,
hope where much snow chilled to marrow.
Their giving we find ~Pure~ unconditional, methodical.

Be it the most graceful One of all
should ever come alight upon the frost of ice near your feet
any lonely, cold bitter day of yours,,,
know that it is not by chance this coming to be your company
until such time as your side will be empty no more.
No single cloud of breath from your breathing on air cold visible,
but one more added with warmth and tangible.
Let the glide of the Swan be all of my stride;
the down soft of its breast be as my upturned wrist to your lips;
the strength coursing thru its wing be all my flow into You,
lofty height this will deem it all possible,
to where gold glints from the sun shine reflection in eye
watching below all the world where you used to slow roam.
No more bounded in the layer of shadow between,
enter their high realm of freedom to taste what you only dream;
take soar on my wish of love into oblivion by my wings,
and watch the lake melt from our blend into creation.