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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=420291" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Wings of the Morning</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=420291" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">It is quiet, even peaceful here, <br>out past Hana on Maui’s Isle.<br>Near Palapala Ho'omau Church, <br>This is where I have come to bide.<br>To listen to the Ocean’s roar, <br>to find what peace is left to me.<br>I could not hide from you, oh Lord<br>Not in the uttermost depths of the sea<br>My time is fast approaching when<br>I will lose this quarrel with disease.<br>The air is warm and liquid here, <br>It has a perfumed fragrance that<br>would bid a younger man to stay.<br>but Cancer bids me to fade away<br>As I will, I’ve seen the stone, <br>simple enough to mark my space<br>In the Churches’ graveyard here<br>my friend Sam has made a place<br>I recall, when youth was dawning, <br>You gave me the Wings of the Morning.<br>Was it simple vanity<br>that made me venture the unconquered sea.<br>I took off from Roosevelt field alone<br>and touched down in Paris, far from home.<br>Now I am far from home again, <br>See where Death approaches, like a friend.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=John+F.+McCullagh">John F. McCullagh</a></strong></div>

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