The migrating birds
Have a story of their own,
Of the seasons ever changing,
And the need to fly home.
Soaring o’er the mountains,
Stretching ‘cross the sea.
With a mortal soul as they have,
Every sunrise sets them free.
Elion, oh mighty one,
In the symbol of a dove
With the viewpoint of an eagle,
Fisher-king, encircling love.
Hold us as your bounty
Stretching way up high.
To the heights of
One anointed.
Take us homeward
To the sky.
Lead us homeward
To the sky.
To the sky.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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