White Dove

Just another poem about birds.

A whisper of dawn the white dove takes to air,
a silent promise rising from all care.
A fleeting spirit, porcelain and bright,
it breathes the boundless freedom of the light.

It rises, an intent released from thought,
a perfect grace that cannot be un-taught.
It charts its path without a guide or line,
a living breath of freedom so divine.

But soon its flight is answered from afar,
by kindred wings beneath the morning star.
A single thought made real, a living sign,
a gathering of purpose and design.

They move as one, a single beating heart,
no solitary player but a part.
A silent language understood by all,
answering a universal gentle call.

So let its beauty teach us from the sky,
that true release is found when spirits fly.
With every breath a shared and common grace,
in this our time, and in this sacred place,
a perfect strength we forge with no trace.