animals know the ways of the dove,
giving their lives to mysterious love,
producing what others want to consume
the circle of life: we want to honor it
the circle of life: we curse it

which is it, my love, which is it?

even sparrows know the way they must go
driven away from the storm and snow
with no anger in their hearts they depart
in order to come back to start again
for sunlight inspires their magnificence

songs sing into streams of bliss and woe
rivers carry them far into ocean coves
what love removes, love always returns
what love embraces, love will then spurn
fearless as the doves of the ethereal skies
who rush back down to the denser climes
never too high or too proud to now return
seeing what’s won is lost, to laugh, to cry.

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