The Wounded Bird

I am a bird, graceful and free, floating through the sky on the wind and with God’s Speed. Everyone loves watching me fly.

Then I fall to the ground, broken and bruised, my wings will not fly. But no one wants to see a bird that cannot fly.

So I patch up my wings, tend to my bruises and take back to the sky.

I am a bird, flying graceful and free, floating through the sky, not quite as high as before, but on the wind and with God’s Speed. Everyone loves watching me fly.

Then I fall to the ground, broken and bruised again, my wings will not fly. But no one wants to see a bird that cannot fly.

So I patch up my wings, tend to my bruises and take back to the sky.

I am a bird, flying graceful and free, floating through the sky, not quite as high as before, but on the wind and with God’s Speed. Everyone loves watching me fly.

Then I fall to the ground, broken and bruised again, my wings will not fly. But no one wants to see a bird that cannot fly.

So I patch up my wings, tend to my bruises and take back to the sky. But I am wounded so deeply, I fall back to the ground, broken and bruised, unable to patch up the wings and take back to the sky. Now I am grounded, unable to fly.

But no one wants to see a bird that cannot fly.