Behold

His eyes zoned into the field of clouds and skies
as he picked apart his entire existence.
He was a complicated man living in complicated times
and his charcoal skin didn't make things any easier for him.
His whole life, he had been abused, tormented and taken advantage of.
Intelligence was not a strength, but there was great strength in his back.
Who it was that meant most to him had been lost to trade,
and he had no one to carry on his name.
So he sat, stared and contemplated what his soul was to accomplish next.

Just then a flamboyant ball of fire emerged from the back of his neck
and unfurled itself into a great eagle with outstretched wings towering above him.
The fire that ravaged each feather burned extravagantly above his head,
but he was too preconsumed with God-knows-what
to take notice of anything at all.
He just looked perturbed into the sky asking God for an answer to his questions,
for a sign that his life had meaning, a reason to push on.
The eagle let out a noble battle cry that echoed across the canyon.
Only when the sound waves had bounced back to their original location,
did he concede the existence of a distant falcon.
The grease kept in his mustache urged him to grab his face
and handle the itch that beleaguered him,
but this itch wouldn't be fought off.
He began to scratch at the hair on his face which he only kept for his wife in the first place.
Now that she was gone, what good did it do him now.
Rage filled his veins as fires raged above him,
within this beautiful and magnificent creation totem-poised for him to witness.
Instead he scratched, like a wet cat at his face,
pulling out every hair underneath the force of un-kept fingernails
until there was no more. He left it a bloody mess, but he felt better
because he felt worse.
The eagle's flames began to sputter and this once triumphant combustion
was now a smoldering mess, as the eagle looked down upon its subject.

He had been reduced to self-masochism in order to feel alive,
and the bird had burnt itself alive to make him feel worthy of something more,
something better than what it now beheld.
In a matter of minutes she had erupted and fallen to ashes all over his wounded face.
He was weeping excessively and didn't register the faint touch of ash descending upon him.
As he buried his face into his rough, callused hands,
the bird had vanished into nothingness and he stood up,
right where he would have seen this miracle materialize.
He dropped his hands and they were covered in blood
with a pattern that resembled a feast of red rice.

He walked for five steps before he paused,
took a deep breath, and leaped with all his might
that had been stored is his legs since he was conceived.
He had never jumped like he did today. All those back breaking hours working,
slaving over fields that he didn't own, gave him the strength to jump further into that canyon
than anybody else before him ever could.
That cliff had taken many lives before his and today it would have another.

With tears covering his face, and blood dripping from his chin,
he outstretched his arms to feel the air rush underneath his spread-eagle form.
He descended gracefully and effortlessly floated down through the canyon
like a bird taking a ride on thermal drafts.
He felt feverish, boiling hot, he was burning up
and he looked at his limbs as the flames engulfed his field of vision.
He was consumed in the fire of his soul
in the fiery passion for his woman.
As he descended the cliffs, the flames that engulfed his arms
fanned out into glorious wings carrying him ever further across the chasm.
With one screech, he took flight, and soared back above the beautiful meadow he left behind,
and beared south over the delta.

It was truly a sight to see,
as he flew off into the horizon,
the flames coercing his physique into the sun
as it set.