(no subject)
When I was very young, the father of a friend (so close that I consider him a brother) found a wounded and dying eagle. He was a doctor, so he scooped it up, took it home, put it in a cage, set its wing and nurtured and nourished it. The bird became stronger every day. Soon it was healthy and strong and its wing was healed. It was time for it to fly again. He took it to the balcony, and he opened the cage. The eagle soared high into the sky, it flew strong and fast, and vanished into the distant horizon. It was free. He waited for it to come back, and when it didn't he fell into a deep sadness. The bird that he had saved and grown to love never returned. A short two weeks later, he pulled out a gun and shot his youngest son in the head. Then he turned it to himself and pulled the trigger. The clean white snow, stained red with the spilled blood of fallen angels.
I learned about death that day. I also learned a lesson that rings true even today: When you fall in love with an eagle, you can't let it kill you when it flies away. That's just the way that it goes. So I wish her the best of luck, on the other side of that horizon...and I pray that all of life's blessings may find her there.
Goodnight...
I learned about death that day. I also learned a lesson that rings true even today: When you fall in love with an eagle, you can't let it kill you when it flies away. That's just the way that it goes. So I wish her the best of luck, on the other side of that horizon...and I pray that all of life's blessings may find her there.
Goodnight...