A Hawks Call

Gentle winds, drift drift gently this hawk above the waters, brown like the clay of earth's marble realm. I saw the dance of crows as I rose, far beyond reach from the sight of golem eyes of haughty men breached, by the lies of serpents and swine. How divine was the moment when a hand lifted my brow from the depths, to the east where my true call was, a basilica of wonder weaving the four winds weaving worlds. Dreaming into another life, into another realm I do best than walk the streets as a beggar in a world not my own.