To fly like a bird,
Soaring in the heavens,
The air rushing past your face,
Creating a roar.

To be above the clouds,
No engine's noise obscuring
The passing eagle's cry.
To fly.

To be the master of the sky,
To know it's every trick,
To ride an updraft,
Rushing upwards on it's power.

To rest, on a pinnacle of rock,
Higher than the highest climber's reach.
To know, that you are the stuff of legends,
And in every poet's dream.