To heal the injured wings of a noble little blue bird.
As he nudges his mothers feathered head.
"What beauty is in the world when all is dead?" is what she said.
She couldn't see his wings that yearn to fly, she couldn't hold him through the darkness, cry.
To heal the injured wings of a noble little blue bird, she could not.
Infact! To her you may look and see the cause of damaged nobility.
Where his heart rests, serpents make their dens.
In shivering feathers he ponders what may become of him,
the hissing voices of needling danger arise in him.
To heal the injured wings of a noble little bird.
Fortunes stolen of him and whats worse, a love spurned.
Forests become a haunted place for him,
for he feels as no home was given, no sacred space for him.
If only he knew, that beneath broken branches, new leaves can grow through.
For this noble bird has purpose and prime, if he should look to heavens and see-
beloved by God and cherished is he!
To heal the injured wings of a noble blue bird, i