What is the falcon, gliding as beaconed sound shot straight through into the endless open air, as a rocket which is elite and launched unto the infinite night sky, his wings and trajectory so steadfast and determined? Where does it fly but to a destination it only has fixed in itself? Let us be the falcon, determined, fixed, conquering all things in transcendent glory, gliding to our next destination, no matter the distance, with the similitude of fortitude and confidence of faith that the path I have fixed be mine and will be traversed, to the very end of ends.