Blast off from the hilltop
A tiny speck in the western sky beckons
With glimmering eyes of gold it calls
Together we rally to it's standard
Hands clasped and hearts together in cadence
This strange ship is old, but that is
Only a veneer, peeling off like lizard scales
It reveals new growth beneath the aged skin
The old, criscrossed with scars and wrinkles
The new, smooth as an infinite possibility
The dove and the owl take flight
Wingtip to wingtip, vanishing to the west
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