Behold upon the morning's light,
The dove spreads wings and takes its flight,
At first so low she starts and flies,
So little her sweet life belies,
And now she pulls up, rises slow,
Finding other doves below,
And with the others under wing,
She reaches further, wandering,
To find herself on higher ground,
Now our dove, she makes a sound,
she opens up and flaps her wing,
And now at last, our dove can sing,
A song so pure doth fill the air,
That everyone below is now aware,
That this pure dove hath made her vow,
Lasting ever hence of now,
To rise and fall as will keep Balance,
And thus make use of all her talents,
Regardless there of high or low,
And helping others thus to grow,
In Balance and in morning's light,
In darkest hour of the night,
To care far less for one's own soul,
Instead to give all with out toll,
To care far less for one's on skin,
And further seek Balance with in.