sing my song.
use the angels tone as you remember our hands touching like
the feathers of a dove.
hold on to the fact that this isnt love.
this isnt lust
this is the human holding on to the strings of its own reality .
the ideas of hate fading into the background.
use your hands to craft amazing things.
but use your voice to proclaim your stunning ideals.
make me fall for you.
like the feather of a dove i will soon fall away.
dont give me the memory of your hand if you plan to pull it away.
because as the feather falls it might soon be picked up to be put into the headdress of women with just enought time to make it fit.
but our shared emotions might be enough to engulf me in the passions of flame more powerful that the strength of my frail form.
and nobody wants a burnt feather in there headress.
if you plan on  extending your hand to me. then do so knowing that i am a fragile feather,  attached to you, because every angel needs a set of wings.
When you grow tired of me, make sure to let me fall slowly. so that when i am used in the lining of someone elses memories, they can use me as they need.
I am a feather. something that is used for other peoples needs and desires.
when you grow old and remember me, just remember to sing the feathers song.
it starts with your name.
and ends with mine.
sing my song.

Upon the wings of doves it was pure
Their purest white Feathers
Glided,
Floated,
Nestled
Its clearness, Its symbolic touch
Upon my yet to be woken heart,
For this beauty showed what was
In front of my eyes,
Feathers did come down like snow
Not only touching mine,
Awoken,
Revived,
Vitality
Sprung forth, emotions were flowering
Everywhere,
My heart was touched
By a feather of purest love,
That is when our eyes meet, I saw a feather
Caress your loneliness and we
Were transformed from
Solitude,
Seclusion,
Sorrow
To hearts that were now awoken,
The true feeling stirred from inside,
To love at first sight,
We were like the feathers
Our hearts had taken flight,
We were in love as white feathers fell,
The symbol of love had opened our hearts
To what was always Within our now *flourishing hearts.

On the railroad of life
I stopped many times
I put my feet
Down
Slowly
Stepping
Off the platform
I looked around
Stayed in this place a while,
But the engine grew
Cold,
Still,
Yearned,
To travel further on,
I had gained much luggage
On my stops,
Tracks buckled, strained under life,
I had to
Release,
Worries,
Pains,
I let them fly free
White Doves
Released,
I moved on slow
Brakes were moaning
Screeching,
Screaming,
Life
Needed to only be travelled
So far,
That last platform,
I stood, smelt the air
Felt the earth between my
Fingers,
Toes,
Feet,
I had travelled so far on the tracks
But know it was time
To let the engine run cold,
Tracks grew flowers upon them
I had travelled far
But now knew I was home..