I FLY HIGH
Natasha Turner ©
I fly high,
Roam on vast oceans,
Following my wave of devotion,
With the sounds of the Native American people,
Playing with my chords,
Singing in my soul.
The spirit of the eagle
Turns into a blue rose,
And I rest
Where
The waterfall
Lays its bed;
Drift slowly
Where the beginning has no end.
Away from faces without no soul
Away from hearts that turned cold
Away yet near the earth’s core.
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