Mystery of the Dove

 
I have lost my tongue while speaking sweet mysteries
Gone from me like a feather from a caged dove
My lathe for talk has erased itself.

There are no more words that I can offer for
when I do I lose my place
And must turn back to remember what I was.

The dove is grey in her cage yet white on the wing
Is there a mystery 
Or is it just the bending of light again?

Arwen Nightstar aka Stephanie Williamson
9/08/1998, Copyrighted.

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