A story told by Hawk:

There are these moments,
In which you have surrendered to life,
You have trusted your instincts,
And they have carried you as far as you can go.

You have reached the end of the known,
You have climbed to the summit of the mountain,
And there is nowhere else to go.
You gaze about, surveying the vast extent of your surroundings,
From a bird’s eye view.

And then, a gust of wind!
You laugh, and remember (suddenly) that thing that you had forgotten:
You have wings!

And so, you catch the breeze.
You play with the art of ascent,
The bravery of diving,
Always circling back around
And climbing again.

You outline the corridor of the valley;
You reach high and taste the heavens.
You gaze out to other corridors, which you will (in the future) stretch into and explore.
This is your home:
The sky, the land, the spaces in between.
Most of all, home for you is movement:
Trusting the signals when it’s time to fly,
And simply catching the breeze.