The black eagle soared in slow, powerful arcs, his keen eyes fixed on the world beneath him. Yet, despite the freedom of the heights, a heaviness pressed upon his heart, for each time his gaze fell upon the fields below, envy gnawed at his spirit. Far beneath, a white dove glided effortlessly, her wings bright against the green and gold of the fields, admired by every creature she passed.
The black eagle stalked forward, his talons gripping the earth. "You," he rasped, his voice rough like gravel, "are celebrated by all. They call you the symbol of peace, while I am feared and abandoned. Why is the world so unfair?"
The white dove, with feathers immaculate as fresh snow, watched him with a gentle, steady gaze. "You see only what shines," she replied, her voice calm and wise. "You think I am loved by all, but there are others, far more adored. Look at the peacock — clothed in colors richer than any dream. Humans marvel at her beauty as if she were a gift from the heavens."
The black eagle alighted on a gnarled branch close to the cage, his eyes wide as he beheld the peacock’s shimmering hues. Crowds pressed in, faces alight with wonder, cameras flashing, their voices a constant, reverent murmur. For a moment, the eagle was awash in a fresh wave of jealousy, longing for the adoration so freely given to another.
"Truly, you are the most beautiful creature I have ever seen. I am jealous — every soul here comes to see you, to adore you."
The peacock, her vibrant train trailing limply behind her, turned toward the eagle, her voice hollowed by grief. "Beauty worshipped by the world means nothing when your wings are clipped. They love the colors, not the soul within. Freedom is the true jewel of life — far rarer, far more precious. You are free, eagle. Never trade your sky for a golden prison."
The black eagle gazed at the peacock, her beauty now tinged with tragedy, and his envy faded into understanding. He spread his wings, feeling the strength in each feather, the promise of endless sky. As he soared upward into the gathering twilight, he knew at last the value of his freedom.
The black eagle beat his wings against the dusk, no longer seeking the love of the world, but reveling in the boundless sky. Below, the dove rested in moonlit peace, and in the garden, the peacock dreamed of open air. And so, the eagle understood: it is better to be unloved and free than celebrated and chained.
