Soaring in these heights...

the great bird of prey looks down beneath him at the swine wallowing in the muck of sense-mongering modernity.  We eagles, and we hawks, and various other majestic soaring creatures -- various only to the degree that have received grace -- look down upon the moderns; down upon the pigs; down upon "fashionable" men and women; down upon 'natural' men with their blood lust, their sex lust, their power mongering and gluttonous filth.

As they roll in their own waste; we who have, with the aid of grace, reached the ethereal heights of reason; we who have attempted to break free from the chains of concupiscence; we who will not bend to lower desires; we have become outcasts in this ether.  What is worse?  They are telling us, from ground level with feces in their eyes, how to see!  They are telling us, the birds of the sky!

Unlike other birds of prey, we pity the swine but do not hunt them.  No, we swoop near them only to provide a breeze to eliminate the stench; to eliminate their pungent ideas.  Unfortunately, attaining these heights is impossible without zephyrs and north winds -- without sacraments.  And even we, the majestic pursuers of virtue, do what we do not want to do.  What chains are these!  What chains are these that force us, the regal birds, to roll in the mire?  One mind, one body -- two warring natures.

Reason is quickened by these chains, but breaking them is impossible without the Cross.  The cool air heights are there for the taking, but let us beg for the winds!