High among the cliffs lived a young eagle who spent his days watching the winds.
Below him, smaller birds fluttered from branch to branch, chasing whatever was closest—food, noise, movement. The young eagle often joined them, darting quickly, never staying long in one place. Though his wings were strong, he flew in circles, never going far.
One day, an older eagle soared above him, steady and unshaken by the shifting winds.
“Why do you stay so low?” the elder called.
The young eagle answered, “There is so much happening here. I don’t know where to go.”
The elder turned toward the distance.
“Look beyond what is near.”
The young eagle hesitated, then lifted his eyes.
Far ahead, the horizon stretched wide and endless, touched by light. For a moment, everything below seemed small—temporary, scattered, distracting.
“Set your flight there,” the elder said.
The young eagle spread his wings and rose higher than before. The winds that once confused him now carried him forward. He no longer chased what moved—he followed where he was meant to go.
And for the first time, he was not just flying.
He was moving with purpose.