If the human had wings, could he fly? Or would he be like the ostrich that cannot escape the heavy chains of gravity? Maybe he would walk around with blank eyes and scramble through the air in brief spurts of trepidation, like the chicken or the goose. Perhaps he would fly from tree to ledge in poise: the confident pigeon that often flies into clear windows. The human, a vain being, will claim himself the eagle. The eagle soars saturated in pride, high above the ostrich, the chicken, the goose, the pigeon. If the human had wings, would they lift him to the height of the eagle? Or maybe they would sit as mere decorations. Neither the eagle nor the ostrich, however, can ascend to the apex of Heaven, like the angel.