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
when it needs to become
Food for scavengers instead of raptors.