There is one eagle in the sepia sky,
And he's not the same old one.
His form is the same, but
His spirit has changed;
He's not clueless any more,
He's not troubled by the wind,
He's stopped circling around,
He's out from the endless spin;
There's no one by his side,
Except his wisdom and strength
And a pride of the world within him -
No, he's not proud like a rooster
Delusional and oblivious of the truth,
With bulging muscles and tight t-shirts,
And the loud cellphones and the cocksureness,
But more like the owl, waiting and watching
Sure of himself, not bothered by the rest;
And definitely like the eagle he's meant to be,
Soaring above everything else.
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