Fly high

We were all born eagles.

Some knew right away that their place was up there in the sky--they soared.

Some remained, (and still remain) chained amidst the squawking chicken in the barnyard;

believing that their real lives are about fighting for the grains of recognition, praise, money, flattery;

believing that’s all the life they will ever have.

When all they need to do is to look up unto the azure above--

To let their souls soar above the clouds;

To take wing and rise above the shackles of the barn;

To fly into the blazing sunset;

And conquer the battles of the skies—not the catfights below.

It’s very tempting to shrug it off, to sigh, resign and get back to business at the barn.

It takes courage

not to conform;

not to be part of the flock--

but to fly alone;

not to be intimidated by the brewing storm--

but to soar above the clouds;

to believe in the face of a blank blue sky

That you were always an eagle.

It’s difficult; yet not impossible, to choose the narrow path.