I open my eyes in the morning
Off the bed, I go
I see the scattered hitch pins
Forever, I now know
That each pin tells a story
Of growth and breath and love
Recovery of the silent time
Awaiting the white dove
Whose feathers, pure and shiny,
Are a lesson to be told
The simplest intuition
It can never become old
For love’s the reason we fly high
The gift we’re given in Spirit
Trust and truth and honor bound
We’re meant to gather all of it
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