I soared through the air of a fresh and glorious morning.
Crisp, cool air cutting from the tips of my wings.
I tore over the fields, on past the cliffs, seeing all in my path.
Night's shadow receded with the wakening day.
The frost melting to slush before touched by even one ray.
The air warms and gives me lift. I fly higher and away,
aloft on a warm pocket I drift,
listening as the lesser birds below begin to sing.


Faintly I hear from, now, far below,
a beacon call, this voice I know.
"My son, you are great indeed.
You are so fast, so strong,
so agile, and proud as a knight's steed...
This day's morning, however, has yet to hear you sing.
Let out your song,
let your voice be freed!"


I picked out each word
in my head and repeated them back.
I'm fast and strong, agile as well,
proud as a steed of great renown.
Why then do you claim I lack?
All this I show before the day's King,
soaring high in the cool air, presenting my gifts.
My feathers shine like riches unknown. 
My talons unearthly sharp and, as night is, black.
What need have I to sing?
Others give fewer honors than I,
yet I am asked to give more back!?


Just as this thought forms in my head,
over me, comes a great sense of fear and dread.
The sun flares out at me turning my vision to white.
Blinded! I hear a crackling sound,
just as the air itself catches alight,
burning my feathers like loose thread. 
My lungs constrict horribly tight,
making it impossible just to breathe.
Out of fear I run, out of shame I take flight.
Upward I fly with the speed of chased game.
Until cool air I find, I cannot rest.
Burning like a coal is the heart in my chest.
As the air rushes by me, the fire, it feeds.
knowing inside it is a hopeless fight. 
Nothing but my own pride to blame.


I climb ever higher before the great ball of flame,
pushing the earth downward, behind me,
I rise to new fame.
To the sun, the great flame in the sky,
my escape is a joke my freedom a lie.
I see, still, nothing. Fear is my guide. 
My feathers have burned, nothing is left,
pushing still harder, it's all I can take.
I hear the sound of cracking, my wings break.
As quickly as I rose, I tear toward the ground,
blinded, powerless, and bereft of my pride.
I tumble and burn, fated to die,
alone in my shame for my song I forsake.