Once upon a time, at the beginning of time, there was an owl. Bound by an eternal wind, the owl scoured the barren forest for life, finding a way to leave the horrors of the forest forever, coexisting with fear and pain. The wings flap with unrest, and hoos with disdain. An eternity of confusion and ignorance, an oversight of blindness, and a view of fog. It rested in winters, and flew in fire in summers, and only saw barren stupidity in all it's life... until a butterfly flew into the forest. The owl, not knowing a clue of what it perceived, flew in out of curiosity, and chased the butterfly, left and right, upwards and down stream, through the fog and in trees, weaving with not a care nor thought in its small graceful mind. Throwing all thoughts to the wind, it only knew one thing, the butterfly. It's wings never gained distress, and flew for what seemed to be forever, until the butterfly landed on a branch. The owl followed right after, and saw a light, and the butterfly facing it. The owl, waddling in distress and nervousness, leaned toward the light, and flew to it. With all its speed, and all its might, it made it through the light, and it all made sense. The sun rained down all the energy, the vibrant life source, and gave it to everything, a life to learn, and why to learn. Everything matched up, and so did it's age. It's wings grew crippled, and wrinkled in speed. But the owl cared not a bit, for it all made sense, its only strife was to manage to get out, and it did, with its graceful wits. For it is better to know one thing, than to forever live in ignorance.
