In favor of lesser things,
Or let the promise of an hour
Betray you with its fleeting power.
Beyond the fragile day or year
Or the dying moment now and here
The weary hours that drag so long,
Your wings will never guide you wrong.
From the vantage of the sky,
Your dreams, your wings, will never die;
And they will guide you through the clouds
Above the shadows, above the shrouds
That haunt the paths of those beings
Who, in neglect, gave up their wings.
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