The Eagle and the Puppet by Erin Schulz

The Eagle soars gracefully above;

time sings his song, only to unravel his fate through verse and melody,

A puppet dances gaily below, bound to that which entangles him. He toils in fear of what he fails to comprehend.

The Eagle soars gracefully above, unaware of what lies ahead, but brave enough to take the risk to discover Life, come what may.

The puppet watches from below,

mocking the Eagle, a foolish bird,

for his useless flight. “Say what you

will,” he replies. “My actions are not

dictated by a measly cord.”

The Eagle soars gracefully overhead

while the puppet dances below.

“Oh dear Puppet, forsake your strings and fly. Doubt does not become you; you must be daring.

Dream, fly, fight, and someday you’ll fly.”

But the puppet continues to dance, shuffling and scraping his feet to suppress the pain.

“Wouldn’t it be lovely,” he wonders

amidst the pulling and tugging of

the string. Alas, the Sword cannot

find him, for it is summoned only by

a confidence the puppet shall never know.

All the while the Eagle soars gracefully in the sky.

“Take me with you! Show me Flight!”

the puppet calls out. But the Eagle

has flown away; he had waited for the puppet, whose stubbornness blinded him to Light, but it was time for him to fly away, to press onward lest he die there; he has too much still to do. The puppet dances gaily; a painted smile reflects the antitheses of his soul.

The Eagle soars along to his song,

no longer burdened with keeping time to the puppet’s odd dance. He sings, he soars.