The dove took flight, because they knew she would
returned to man because she should.
The little bird was not too rapt,
to find her vitality had been tapped.

In the same hall, the voices stole such bliss;
the echoing cavernous passionate kiss
that only dawn gave to the demise of night
in that hall the dove called for light.

and Thursday's child took the feeble dove home,
her ebony claws moved alone,
to reach the star last to fade,
into a small grave her body was laid.

Night time rose, just for the dove
whose memory bore the unreserved love,
for the heavens which died at the break of each dawn,
and the stars which were all long gone.

the dove had been born a cool spring night,
that same day, she had taken flight
to find her purpose among the debris
of a fallen world's decree.

The next dawn came, but before fore it was done,
the dove had reached judgement, she had won;
for just before dawn had stolen the light,
she shook the soil from her wings, and took flight.