If words had wings, they would fly
In search of you, in daylight, and in night.
Though the highest of mountains,
And the longest of brooks.
Across the biggest of oceans,
In the looming dark and the glaring light.
Like us- they too would be born,
To find their destiny, and
To learn the meaning to their flight.
They too would seek to reunite
With their maker. And thus would
Scour for you, as their birthright.
For I am but their surrogate mother.
It's your pregnant memories that
Blesses them with Life.
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