I spring joy out of my rib cage
Like a flash of pigeons flying North
South here in Mississippi, Florida,
I insist on the aspiring eye,
Try as time does to cast it down,
Cast up the eye, birds their blue nature
Transfer through the air from the soul
Whole in its ambiguous essence
From one place to another
Without waste, we follow them
Ten times higher for their flight
Because we dream the same dream
Teeming in space out of our rib cage,
Age shall not deter us, nor walking stale
Flying, we are going up high in joy
On blue air, as if birds were the spirit,
Man was meant to walk, but meant to fly
Joyful as pigeons full of the grace of space
And if we have joy we have love
Above all else. Flare up, love in the heart
Part of flying, spring joy in Mississippi, in Florida,
It is a tale bold as an ideogram,
Conclamant wings heading North
Forth away. Joy uncages man to love.