when a feathered creature learned to dive
and glide underneath the empyrean,
his silky wings brace the ol’ buttermilk sky;
wafting herds of sheep, mounting one another,
gently moving in an all familiar direction-
all the way to the neverending finish line.
how restless they were
and the creature wondered why.
he explored different faces; different places
and avoided savages in their beastly phases.
when famished, he stepped on weak worms
and let his pointed beak pecked the life out of it.
in his eyes, he’s a hungry creature,
naive and absent to others’ thoughts.
his stomach growls louder and he wanted more,
how monstrous he is!
and the worms wondered why.
And all goes back to the little creature
when a tiny missile-like steel
touched his pounding heart,
an abundance of sheep wept,
but he still continues to fly.
not into the arms of the Shepherd,
who guarded his flock with his eagle eyes.
the Shepherd didn’t catch him,
and the creature, into the abyss he goes
and the Shepherd knew why.