When the soaring bird falls,
To whom shall he pass the gall?
To whom shall he spit spite's sputum spray,
When flight fails and feathers fray?
Shall he cast scorn upon the wind,
For the gale it did send?
Shall he be greived with the earth,
For its rocky embrace now his berth?
Shall he admit the fault of his wings,
And acknowledge this, their failures sting?
Or shall he lift himself from battered, broken berth,
And forge himself a better, brighter rebirth?
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