An eagle is soaring effortlessly through warm layers of cutting trade winds along ragged coast lines of an yet undiscovered continent. A strong arm is raised in an welcoming gesture of possible unison. The eagle's claws are finding their fit around hardened muscles as the warrior cries out in deep joy and understanding of the animal's needs for recognition and freedom. Behold. The bird's beak is ripping open a gash of flesh around the man's left wrist. Fresh blood is flowing forth to color the earth below in dark, inky tones of red. The color of love and hate. After the man bled to death quietly, his soul is born liberated of the trade of flesh for water. Waves are rumbling against the ancient cliffs, which are towering over untouched sandy beaches that have been hiding so long along forgotten boulders of past millennia. The body is falling down to the earthen ground, is twisting once more in physical revolt to release itself over the cliff's edge into the winds of coming change. The salty waters are washing clean the warrior's vehicle, which has served its purpose from times of sin and truth. At last the body is returned to salt in veins. The last verdict is freedom. No time to die, if one can live.
All the love from Fantasia