Faith / Poetry / Spiritual Bondage

The Eagle and I

Of your feathers so light, so free,

swooping up the morning glee;

dressed in  courage that all can see,

looking down the road at me.

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I’m not to envy,  not to hate,

though something in me, sad, of late;

Looking at the Eagles fate,

His freedom and his happy state.

Though long I’ve looked and wondered why,

His freedom mocks me, by and by;

While he sweeps the endless sky,

and endless drops of tears, I cry.

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Yet, to the wind I look for hope,

that lifts the Eagle,n’ makes him float;

That helps a man, in valleys, cope;

the rainbow in my telescope.

And someday when I’m gray and old,

My story sweet, as stories told;

They’ll say, Her Saviours hand uphold,

So she could fly, so free, so bold.

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