From the egg, conceived in rebellion, Hatched a great eaglet in the dawn. And word spread throughout the land, That he would conquer worlds… and more. The nations gathered, quaking with fear, They tried to crush the small, tender one. With feathers barely forming on its wings, Its life began with blood and war. In time it rose, and learned to fly, Its shadow covering every shore. Peoples bowed before its passing form— In tribute, and in terror evermore. Now this mighty bird is drunk On the blood of myriad enemies. It no longer sips, but drinks in gulps, Refilling its chalice ceaselessly. Blinking blindly, and turning round, Wipes foul beak on a preacher’s robe. O foolish bird, you cannot pierce The veils of those who watch you fall. Your fate now lies in other hands, And nothing can you do at all. Your children turn away in hate, Abandoning your rotting, ruined hall. Why do you not preen your withered wings, Or strut about like days before? Can you not see the dying earth below, The fading sky that darkens evermore? Even they are crumbling to dust! The world you ruled is sickened to its core. The hour comes to cleanse the wounded earth, And you, proud bird, are first to go. Your wings grow heavy with your sins, Your fading shadow trembling low. The wind that once upheld your flight Now whispers that it’s time to let you go.
