For precious are certainties of nature
as the talons of a Dove are stunning
and adhere to a wire like nothing
squeeze every essence to remain in air
observed by the heartfelt despairs of time
beckoned forward with bread crumbs to allure
and yearning to be free from all its cares
pains of a millennium portend war
through dark scarlet eyes beyond rainbow’s hues
the Dove vanishes weightlessly returns
looks out against the everything-person
an animate being sentient aware
it has since the last line gone off to perch
and when it returns will slice the war.
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