eagles dream gliding
on air, they fly
so high up in the sky
all is beauty up there.
shooting down for prey
all turns to death, blood
and intestines dripping
from their claws,
their eyes are clearer
than a mountain stream,
they are a song of life
turning silently above.
maybe eagles in their
dream take human shape,
walking amongst us
soundlessly, invisible
as when we were children
going barefoot through
cornfields, feeling lost
and all alone, maybe
they can listen, can see,
sitting on the roof of buses
and trams, in coffee houses
and bars, maybe they
understand that words
are nothing, humans
cannot talk to each other,
they act and pick out
what they can hear,
do interpretations
of each other, the world
and especially eagles
and then the eagles wake
and rise and they will
never return because
they are their only song
