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Under 2 burning suns & an apricot moon which never leaves its pink-purple sky The Hawk was born. In a wild ritual; lava bubbling, lightning pulsating in strange rhythms - an ancient city crumbled & a beautiful mountain, fresh & new, rose from the rubble - atop; The Hawk. Standing side by side - the wonder of newborns in their glistening eyes, determination & purpose upon their gorgeous brows, holding hands, singing & crying- fresh from this desert womb; The Hawk. Why are they here? What have they come to do? What is in that basket? Smells like hot fruit pie ... is it pie? ... The Hawk. www.flighthawk.rocks