I look up and find a stare of granite upon me, cold and unblinking.

Upward, I continue to gaze, fearful of this beast.

Will he plunge upon me in defense of his perch (his only home since conception)?



There I stand, still, petrified by fear and wonderment.

We are locked, by our gazes, in a battle of souls.

I wonder, do you have a soul?

Surely some malevolent force must guide you, or rule you, and your brothers' sentinels all.



I regret that I must lose this battle of wills, but you are of stone, unmoving, unbending.

and I, only of flesh.

But then again, I have my freedom.