Freedom

Standing high atop a canyon wall, a rising, thermal current warmed my weathered face with gentle, smoothest, invisible fingers. Overhead a lone eagle glides effortlessly, circling, dipping downward, ostensibly playing. His iterate screeching echoes loudly through the narrow chasm. Genuine freedom on the wing but unaware how free he is; and I who deems to be as free knows that it’s only an ideal one that can never be achieved.