Rocking in the calm wind, white sheaves swayed in waves, collecting crystal dust blown hither from far offshore. They move to an impulse, tightening and fortressing before a still silence awakes. In a shard of time, they rouse, stirring collectively --- and elongate in tight vanes of bright white, and rise----sending a huge blow through the trees, bending fig and pine, before taking off, spreading like two broad fans in the night sky. Piercing the clouds, its beak points north, towards Orion and the heart of my home, a stream of gold dust following in its path towards tomorrow.. 150Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡwNP6wx7Kjq
150Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡnpShKyiOcr
They call it the Mikra, the White Eagle, the One that Lives in the Skies. Villagers of many pay homage to it for good luck and blessings on the mornings that it takes flight and is visible to all on the ground. The chances of such as a mere demi-quarter out of seven when it does take flight. For its sheath of angelic white is an invisible cloak of heavenly magic that cannot be broken or torn unless through impact from some celestial weapon. According to legend, it is often the blows from its rival, the Sapphire Serpent, that also lives in the depths of the skies. Many a nights do they battle in thick smock and thunder, the serpent trying to terrorize the villages, and the eagle protecting the grounds on patrol. There is never a day's rest for the eagle. Though last night's victory bred peace for thousands, it had drained its resources by a good proportion. A hole has been burned South of its invisible sheath, where it simmers in brackish red, the villagers see stunning ruby light. 150Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6ZUdJa1X9t
150Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ3VZjyVy6yl
Shouts of awe and prayer arise as the Mikra soars across the pale skies of dawn, a shooting star of crimson light, a reminder of yesterday's moonlight. 150Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡJ57tVkuN4V
Above, it hears the faint horns and ceremonial gongs, letting it echo in its mind and body as a token of the day's memory; a reward for the never-ending sparring...
For that is its duty.
150Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡFVvf0hfLS7
~150Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7dKODftdnY
150Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡGWOoujVG3P
Reflection: I think I wrote this piece to express the idea of rebirth and resilience following each challenge or setback. Our lives are filled with stones and sunshine, just like the White Eagle, and sometimes the journey feels unbearable. Yet, it's the small tokens of appreciation that get us moving on, and they come not only from the people around us, but from within ourselves, for the cause that we are working for. 150Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡL02y94v639
and then Add to home screen.