There is beauty in the wounded bird

Shimmering with bright, red blood

Essence dripping into the ocean

Majesty in an off-kilter flight

Fading life mixing with a deep, blue sea

 

It is this creature’s swan song

And it is as moving as any orchestra

No horns need to announce it

No strings to add texture

And no drums to shake the earth

 

Falling from grace seems so wrong

But this bird is returning its gift

It made no error in it’s flight

And yet it is falling from so high up

It only needs to dive to tug at one’s heartstrings

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