Fri 16 Jun, 2017 16:48:12 EAT
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Early each morn,
He parts his beak to let out a melody not of mourn,
His powerful high pitched voice cuts through the dew filled air,
Song so beautiful like rapunzel by the stair,
Heartwarming rendition and soothing Luke red wine to the soul,
Of man, woman and child.
He knows not where to get food, he trusts,
He knows not when he'll cease to live, he believes,
He is glad, there's one to meet his needs,
He lives, the one who lives takes care of him.
Under his maker's wings he flies,
Each night he gathers his young under his wings,
Generously he shares his maker's love,
Teaches what his teacher taught him,
Provides with what his provider gave him.
I will be like the bird,
To lay all my trust in the Lord,
I will seek,
I will find,
Never to let go,
He is why the bird sings.
My pen has bled so listen to my heartwriting.
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