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
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