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The Wings That Fly Us Home

“The Wings That Fly Us Home”

By John Denver

There are many ways of being in the circle we call life.
A wise man seeks an answer, burns his candle through the night.
Is a jewel just a pebble that found a way to shine?
Is a hero’s blood more righteous than a hobo’s sip of wine?
Did I speak to you one morning on some distant world away?
Did you save me from an arrow? Did you lay me in a grave?
Were we brothers on a journey? Did you teach me how to run?
Were we broken by the waters? Did I lie you in the sun?

I dreamed you were a prophet in a meadow, I dreamed I was a mountain in the wind.
I dreamed you knelt and touched me with a flower, I awoke with this: a flower in my hand.

I know that love is seeing all the infinite in one.
In the brotherhood of creatures, through the Father, through the Son.
The vision of your goodness will sustain me through the cold.
Take my hand now to remember when you find yourself alone: you are never alone.

And the spirit fills the darkness of the heavens. It fills the endless yearning of the soul.
It lives within a star too far to dream of. It lives within each part and is the whole:
it’s the fire and the wings that fly us home, fly us home, fly us home.

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John Denver at the Crazymad Writer's blog

 
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Posted by on July 16, 2015 in John Denver

 

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Whispering Jesse – John Denver

Whispering Jesse – John Denver

I often have wandered in deep contemplation
It seems that the mind runs wild when you’re all alone
The way that it could be
The way that it should be
Things I’d do differently if I could do them again

I’ve always loved spring time, the passing of winter
The green of the new leaves and life goin on
The promise of morning
The long days of summer
Warm nights of loving her beneath the bright stars

I’m just an old cowboy from high Colorado
Too old to ride anymore, too blind to see
I sleep in the city now
Away from the mountains
Away from the cabin we always called home

I dream I left there
On an old Palomino
Whispering Jesse rode right by my side
I long to hold her
To hear her soft breathing
The touch of her cool hands on my fevered brow

Whispering Jesse still rides in the mountains
Still sings in the canyons
Still lives in my heart

Words and music by John Denver

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Posted by on April 16, 2014 in John Denver

 

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