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3rd September, 1999

A Bird.
O’ yes, I’m but a bird.

I like to soar high, and fly a little low –
I perch down on trees, and swoop on the ground below.

I’ve seen the world at large – men, who over petty things get charged;
I’ve seen them praying, – and I’ve seen them slaying.

I’ve seen flowers bloom – as also the o’erspread gloom.

I ponder. I wonder.
Was this the World that HE made?
Is this the Life for which we Prayed?

I’m but speechless, my thoughts don’t show,
I can’t raise my voice, nor raise a brow –
Yes, a bird I am. I know.
A bird as white as snow.