The Song was always there.

Animals come and go. The constant passing hunt. I've had just enough meals of them to stay alive, I'm far from a glutton. I lived solely on pork for a while. I had one taste of cuttlefish and was so sure that I'd die without it becoming a staple. I had a few opportunities to swim with dolphins while fishing and to feel the thrill of chasing deer through the woods. I even saw a zebra once that let me stroke her face, but I could not bear to push that further for some reason, and she galloped off when she noticed another of a more equine persuasion than myself in a nearby field. All this while, I heard birds singing. Well, I though it was plural "birds", but it was actually quite singular. After a few more meals of easily caught boar, I moved toward the sound of the singing birds. I came into a clearing and saw the bird. I recognized it instantly. Long before I had come to Space, long before I travelled with the circus troupe, there was the bird. I felt so stupid for ever forgetting her. I once flew with her in a time when I thought I was a normal person, back before I learned that I was a psychotic cult leader that had the ability to make birds and cuttlefish do my twisted bidding. The bird was singing a song in the Language of the Birds. The song plainly said

"You flew with me
That tension is still there
they cast you away
I have missed you so
Are we coming back to this plane
or are we doomed to forever walk this dirt road alone?"

She sang about me with her many voices, but did not see me. I approached too eagerly. She was startled and roosted away, hidden in the trees. I called for her, begging her to remember me. I screamed into the trees until the sky turned black and my lungs and throat were red. I called and cried until warm rain lulled me to sleep.

I want to fly with her again.