70 mph
blue skies
flying by
city buildings look like tiny empires
no taller than the pine trees
all surrounded my little fire
the wet fire wood tells me none of this is real
just like me
but there was this white dove that sat upon an oak tree
he says I am free
the blood in my veins pump
and the images i see
i believe the dove
the feelings i feel
this is perfection
this is my song
this is my revelation.