| Free at last The eagle climbs higher on the thermal So far it might seem to be lost to our wondering We know that he is there Even deep within our wandering dreams The feathers burn a deep brown against the summer sun Talons grasping at empty air in shrill cry of frustration Prey has fled too fast before the king of the skies Another draft carries him beyond the sight of us And in time the field stands silent to the night The moon bathes this place in silver glory Then the golden eagle will hunt here again Free at last of these chains made by darkness -Daniel | 
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