Plebeian in a Temple

She sat amongst the grasses that swayed and sashayed in the gusts' daily dance
She laughed so sweet, so gentle that the flowers looked up in their search for sun.
She sighed in calm absolution, a tranquil serenity that she harvested from the fields
She sits on the stone that bites her as she kneels to the floor
She listened to the birds as they sang their pleasure to the earthly haunts of mere mortals
The whispers of the world were not missed as the chuckles fell, somehow sibilant in the silence
She listens with rapt attention as the echoes float about the room
She cannot quite mimic the relentless fascination, admiration and aspiration that she holds beneath the ever blue sky
Not quite as the foreign words wash over her, a foreign tongue
She hears as though thoughts were placed in her mind as they think themselves higher than such plebeian souls
They draw forth their anger and destitution
A desire for revenge, retribution
She sits as still as the stones on her mountain crag
Like an eagle waiting to leap
A leap of faith into the empty air
She sees the clouds behind her eyes as though flying up high
And she hears the thunderous falls that stand beneath her
So strange to think those voices are seemingly above her
Eyes so hard and impenetrable that she fears to glance up for a glimpse
The footsteps thud on the dusty rock, the shiver of anticipation as her eyes fall blind
The sold stone welcomes her home, to cold and bitterly wrought.
A cry escapes as the eagle in the crags plunges through the empty air