Our feather
who is not in the least heavy.
Hollow is your stem.
High wingdom come.
High thrill undone in mirth,
A sifting mist of leaven.
Lift up this day above our head.
& forgive us our gravity,
As we forgive those
Who have more gravity than us.
Lead us not into defenestration,
But retrieve our eagle.
For flying is the wingdom,
The soaring in pure sky,
Sure quiver & wind weaver
Ahh wind.
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