God, make me a bird to fly far far away
God, make me a bird to fly home today
I'll pick a good tree to call home for the hour
I'll carry from one field to another
the seeds that will burst to become the next flower
I'll surrender the desire to create an original
I'd rather be once again with all that I am
Come from nowhere
Part of everything
Divesting myself of this cloak calling itself Ego that will protect me at all costs. Even when it costs me myself.
Yes, the meadows support both grasses, weeds and flowers
but how do we tell one from the other? Are they not all part of the master plan intelligently designed?
God, give me wings this day
I'll put them to good use.
