To fly like a bird,
Soaring in the heavens,
The air rushing past your face,
Creating a roar.

To be above the clouds,
No engine's noise obscuring
The passing eagle's cry.
To fly.

To be the master of the sky,
To know it's every trick,
To ride an updraft,
Rushing upwards on it's power.

To rest, on a pinnacle of rock,
Higher than the highest climber's reach.

It only takes a brief glance at the sheer volume of books on the market to make it painfully obvious that writing books is a popular thing to do nowadays. And as a result, libraries and bookstores are flooded with novel upon novel ad nauseam. The public demand for novels is seemingly insatiable. In consequence, writers crank out book after book after book, in very short periods of time.