Slitting the Throat of A Country

He glides, unaided fellow. His frumpled wings flock from a frail figure. Formerly capable of lifting multiple 45 lb. weights in a bench-pressing format, he now lifts leaves of paper. One at a time. One flip per 2 minute time span. Slowly, he reads. He gazes and absorbs, theoretically. He licks his wings, straightens them out and winces from the harsh, rushing air. Gulping breaths, he steals from us. He wants to go home. This man is a thief. With finesse, his butterfly knife flicks open and splits the seams of topographical destiny. Mountain? Cares not. It's all he knows. He has learned nothing else. Gasping for breath and choked of dreams, the dry sod whimpers. He laughs.