The Belief Beast Thing

It rises up in the morning
Dresses its frame with flesh and skin
Or perhaps takes on ethereal features
Clothed in thoughts and patches of air
It has long wings
Bat-skinned and covered in feathers
With sharp talons underneath
And arms that can reach much too far
It flies in the sun
Unmarked by any eyes upon the ground
It waits and watches and it rises still
Before plummeting past cloud banks
To catch its prey
The traveler
Claws enclose and tendons clench
And with a flap the earth is gone
So far below
The traveler cannot find a foothold
Carried along and struggling in vain
Or maybe not
The beast is strong
But it is after all
Only the appearance of strength
Perhaps
Perhaps the skin and flesh can be pulled back
And the frame laid bare on the ground
Will be nothing but an angel in the snow
An empty impression on the air
And the traveler will safely
Fall to their death
Along with the Belief thing
Until it rises once more in the morning
Until it rises again