Dave's Web Site of
A small and battered eaglet
Bruised, broken, barely breathing
Winds, storm, and then sunset
But still his heart was beating.
Living on the cruel ground
Where flight does not belong
With dirt and rocks heís bound
His soul losing its eagle song.
Our Lordís care was not
The finger of God did bestow
A heart both good and strong
With a purity few would know.
Time after time he would
Throwing himself into the air
To no avail his wings would beat
Another fall, another break and tear.
In the Lordís eyes he
By his effort he did gain
Godís own hand sent an angel
With love and care to sooth the pain.
With her wondrous touch
His wings grew strong as his heart
The eagle loved her so much
He followed, hoping never to part.
Higher and higher he flew
Below his wings the earth fell
But a bird of flesh and blood
Couldnít catch the divine angel
Strong and free he found
Flying high but carrying his past
Scarred and ugly to say the lease
His heart finding heaven at last.
This eagle flies high
and all alone
Lifted by memories he does dwell
More powerful than the pain heís known
The touch of a brown-eyed angel.