Eagle’s Cry

I stretch my wings,

testing my artistic freedom,

leaping into the fickle winds.

With eagled perception

I locate herds of ideas and visions

that scurry on the mental planes.

Descending in rapid fashion

I grasp a thought as it flees

and squeeze the artistic juice free.

My beak clamps down

on its meaty hide, ripping,

seizing its essence from bones.

Ahh, but I am not fulfilled,

never fully satisfied,

I always hunger, craving more.

I dive again and again,

searching for that choice piece

that will give me immortality.