My Hawk Soars Swiftly.
Through my forest I do walk,
my being swiftly follows.
With brilliant wings of a hawk,
it soars through the wooded hollows.
I feel it lifting from me,
as a feather it be light.
I see my inner self suddenly,
and my hawk she does take flight.
I smile to the golden sun,
a joy never felt before.
In my world there is no gun,
just your hawk in the air can soar.
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