ON THE WINGS OF A DOVE WE FLY, WHERE THE SUN WARMS OUR FEATHERS AND THE CLOUDS SUPPORT OUR DREAMS AND OUR FANTASIES. LO AND BEHOLD WE NEVER EXPECTED TO FIND SUCH WELCOME FROM A FATHER WHO CUDDLES US IN THE BOSSOM OF HIS SACRED BODY AND CALLS US HIS CHILD. (BREATHE)
LET US TAKE OUR FLIGHT TO A NEW HORIZON AND DANCE IN THE LIGHT OF THE MOON. LET US FREE OUR SPIRIT AND COMMUNICATE AS ONE AROUND THE SACRED STARS, AS THEY BLING FOR US AND LIGHT OUR PATH. TOGETHER WE CAN MESH THE HEAVENS BRING FORTH THE FAITH AS WE TRUST AND BELIEVE. YES, TRUST AND BELIEVE THEN, LET GO..(BREATHE)
ON THE WINGS OF A DOVE WE GLIDE TOWARDS A DESTINATION THAT IS FULL OF TRUTH AND BEAUTY. WE LEAVE BEHIND ALL OUR FEARS AND SIT IN THE CRADLE OF HOPE , LOVING THE MOMENTS THAT WE HAVE BEEN GIVEN. NEVER TAKING FOR GRANTED THE BREATH THAT FOLLOWS (BREATHE)
ON THE WINGS OF A DOVE WE FIND OUR TRUE NORTH AND GO FOR THE ANSWERS WE SEEK. WE GO TO THE ALTER OF WORSHIP BEARING GIFTS OF SELFLESSNESS AND ACCEPTANCE. WE LOVE, WE REACH, WE KNKOW THAT THIS LIFE IS ONLY A PASSAGE ONTO MORE MEANINGFUL THINGS. (BREATHE) IN LOVE AND LIGHT, NAMASTE .
Your poem seems to honor the white dove, perhaps, for its expected purity. But my backyard, daily, is occupied by white wing and mourning doves that are every bit as swift and beautiful flyers as the white one you have depicted. They tend to sit tight, and even come close. Relying on their tremendous birth of energy to save them when a cat pounces on them or some foolish housewife swats at them with a broom. There are some of the most beautiful creatures that occupy my backyard. Sometimes while resting, they transform themselves into strange shapes don't seem to be them until they get up and walk off again without a care in the world.
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Ron