*It's under peotry, but it's supposed to be a song. It's kind of funny without the tune, and lost some of it's character.*

When I read Flight, I was impressed by your skill with words, but even more amazing was the yearning underlying—or is it overlaying?—every word. I too have struggled with the sky-sickness and fought the flight-longing.

Chapter One.

Solitary

In spite of the far-reaching influence of relativism (that is, the idea that there is no absolute truth), most people are not all-out relativists. My previous essays on truth should demonstrate why. To abandon the absoluteness of truth is to abandon all logic and reason, and even one’s own observation and thinking processes. And most people simply cannot bring themselves to jump off the edge of reason into the seas of insanity. Truth’s absoluteness is at least as necessary as existence itself.

"I’m sorry" Said the Healer sadly, "But I’m afraid that you’ll never have children." The couple sadly walked away, the Queen crying bitterly.

Queen Rya was embroidering by a window that Winter and her finger was pricked by the needle, "Ouch" she thought, as she sucked on her poor finger. But the as blood dripped on the snow she prayed dearly for a daughter with lips as red as blood, hair as black as ebony and skin white as snow.