Eagles Fly

The eagle flies within a clarity of vision,
unsupposed and unsupported by the mortal
eyes of man, for she knows beyond all thought
just what she needs. Wolves howl through the
nights of mankind's make-believe; receiving
all the wasted strength so many choose to leave
behind. A wild herd of stallions run, hearts
beating to a synchronistic rhythm so alive,
that clouds on high pour down to feel and feed
upon their beauty and their worth.

Instinctual, the prime and primal source of
all of life. Energy forever flowing free - through
form and shape and even all of mankind's
disillusionment. Yet no matter how we seek
that perfect vision - it will never come to be -
until we set our spirits free within the winds
that blow so ceaselessly through all that we
are truly meant to be. Freedom calls - escape
lies here, so close to the imprisonment so many
hold to be so dear.

It moves us beyond any thought of a propriety
that societies hold o'er our heads, spreading
their disease through nothing more than fear
of death itself. Yet instinct moves beyond e'en
fear; and ever will its will and want be heard
and felt and acted on. As the will of man becomes
no more than just another endless, aching scream,
enveloped and somehow dissolved by these,
the endless winds that eagles ever choose to
fly into eternity...

? Michaelette ?

Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
Take me home...