And so came the time when a line of formless people, I among them,
walked deliberately from the hill
in the bitter, bitter cold north.
Down into the valley we walked
for days upon days wearily.
We walked then for years amidst the light of men,
basking in the folly of their ambition.
And still we strode onward
until the darkness of night befell us.
A great wind came down from on high
and smote the will from our legs
and struck pangs of hunger to our bellies.
With tired, sunken eyes,
those of us too weary to lay down for long, looked up.
And there in the distance,
perched atop a hill the Eagle stood:
Yet another illusion, not at all seeming like an eagle.
Nothing made sense, yet it bade us come.
Some of us stood up once again
and went onward
whilst others could not get up,
slept on, unmoving…
© 1991 Helios Journal