The Need to Fly

I look out the window and see the hawk flying. I envy it. I envy the freedom that it has. The ability to rise above it all: emotions, need, and pain. I too need to fly. I need to let my imagination run rampant.

Agitated already, that knot in my chest grows. It burns as the beast that resides in it dies to explode into action, to create that which has not yet been seen. But, it is caged, surpressed within me. It is a dangerous force: that need. That impulse. Because of it's unability to escape, it drags you into the dark leading you a mad-hatters dance. It claws at you trying to destroy whatever is holding it back. It endeavors to drive you over the cliff and into insanity. It leaves you only two choices: to release the beast and see what happens--whether the result is catastrophic or prosperous--or to keep it caged and pay the consequences.