The Falcon

 

Like most birds,  

I chirp, 

Like others, 

I fly. 

This is not an old story that I try.

But the touch of azure-grey wings, dark brown backs, a buff colored underside with brown spots, and white faces with a black tear stripe on the cheeks made me an alien. 

The hooked beaks and strong talons made me a raptor. 

I become a bird of prey. 

I'm alienated. 

I counsel myself.

What remains ? 

Only a myth and wildlife !
It might be smoother.
I have no mind yet.
But nobody can deny my speed.
Nobody can challenge my aerodynamic torsos and specially pointed wings.
No birds can spend their days with me except my prey.
I'm the fastest, spiritually subsisted and morally persisted.
Seeing my aggressive gesture, the birds become grey.
The gusty wind is my friend.
It's matter of pride to comprehend.
The lustrous eyes of the universe behold my shape.
But my preys !
They gape.
Like lightning or thunder, I fall on the field from the zenith's height and create the bar.
Often I win or I fail.
After all it's a Falcon's life that becomes the story of hell.