It looks alive, doesn’t it?

The glassy eyes of the taxidermed hawk stare

no mercy for the mouse he will never devour

both wrapped forever in the limbic heat of attack

The real hawk is merciful when sated

And takes a joyous victory lap.

Once a good idea becomes ideology

the life has gone out of it

It becomes a virus

No longer creating joy or hope

Merely replicating itself.

If we hear a good idea

Then do the good idea

it can grow and change and fly

then die

when it needs to become

Food for scavengers instead of raptors.