Gaze of a Falcon

The grain is gold beyond it meadow it will surpass Small rodents are making a fuss The wind forms waves on the sea of grass As air moves in awe inspiring mass Like islands grow oak trees Shortest grass reaches persons' knees In a distance there is buzz of honey bees Standing upon towering oak falcon everything sees Sunset is violet as clouds move in a linen sky Towards endless horizon falcon will fly It soars above mountains up high Its visage in a soul forms a dream that will never die Time forms echoes with infinity As in air there is smell of immortality Eye of the falcon reflects eye of destiny As this eye encompasses all echoes of continuity