The cobra begins to circle it's prey;
a gentle dove that has lost it's way.
Fangs exposed, tongue hissing fierce;
with the ability to wound or pierce.
But the dove has protection it needs,
it has an olive branch and it's seeds.
The cobra moves in for the attack,
but the strong dove pushes him back;
for as long as the branch is there,
there will always be some one to care,
and as long as one dove yet remains;
nothing is what the cobra obtains.
