Recalls
So what is a life for a fallen angel? We set out from glowing fields like fireflies hoping to find ourselves and our way, humanity but a glint in god's eye. Errant children, trying to find things that were not there. And we look at what came after and call it flawed and damage as if we were any smarter, and yet it took us an eternity and eternity still to come this close or this far from anything at all.
My memories grow forward, fed by the past. My mind is but a snake consuming it's tail and so it shall continue.
And my heart, my heart is only now the picture of me on my knees helplessly looking at the red ruin I called a stomach, I am gutted. Indeed, I made that doll, filled him with all the parts of me too soft and so I sit empty.
I could climb infinite steps to find my throne and sit on it with heavy crown and broken heart.
If you were fool like I you'd chain your problems to ribs and spine, heart and soul and shackle your mind to drag them through burning sands. And scoured you would stand again and again, willing the winds to whip you to bone and the sun to bleach you white.
And I've watched them dash towards the sky until they turned to fire and fell like stars. The echo of their voice swearing they could see god again.
The snow is their ashes, year after year the sky gives them back to me, and I look after my brothers and my sisters and we make angels of them but they'll never fly again, now they only fall.
As for me, I've no answers. I am just form without function, a direlict ship that should have sunk ages ago. A fucking antique. Waiting for someone to find me and appreciate my uselessness, but even legends can be forgotten and that is all we are now. The ragged remains of a long forgotten reality. Our myth is just a horrible farce.
You will find me in the sand I'm sure, worn to bone and rags. And the answer to what the other end of the chains were attached to, a coffin and in that coffin?
Not with a bang, but with a soft cough as I collapse for the last time, and a soft thump as I find that I simply cannot stand anymore. I will not crawl desparate, I will not. I will sit and I will wait, but I will not crawl.
Damned to walk a path until there is nothing with which to walk, but damned to walk. No I will not crawl.
Will I?
Or maybe I'm dreaming, and wishing. Hopeful that I'll be spared my dignity if nothing else. Or worse still, hopeful that I'll even get a death at all. For you see what resides in that coffin... is me.
My memories grow forward, fed by the past. My mind is but a snake consuming it's tail and so it shall continue.
And my heart, my heart is only now the picture of me on my knees helplessly looking at the red ruin I called a stomach, I am gutted. Indeed, I made that doll, filled him with all the parts of me too soft and so I sit empty.
I could climb infinite steps to find my throne and sit on it with heavy crown and broken heart.
If you were fool like I you'd chain your problems to ribs and spine, heart and soul and shackle your mind to drag them through burning sands. And scoured you would stand again and again, willing the winds to whip you to bone and the sun to bleach you white.
And I've watched them dash towards the sky until they turned to fire and fell like stars. The echo of their voice swearing they could see god again.
The snow is their ashes, year after year the sky gives them back to me, and I look after my brothers and my sisters and we make angels of them but they'll never fly again, now they only fall.
As for me, I've no answers. I am just form without function, a direlict ship that should have sunk ages ago. A fucking antique. Waiting for someone to find me and appreciate my uselessness, but even legends can be forgotten and that is all we are now. The ragged remains of a long forgotten reality. Our myth is just a horrible farce.
You will find me in the sand I'm sure, worn to bone and rags. And the answer to what the other end of the chains were attached to, a coffin and in that coffin?
Not with a bang, but with a soft cough as I collapse for the last time, and a soft thump as I find that I simply cannot stand anymore. I will not crawl desparate, I will not. I will sit and I will wait, but I will not crawl.
Damned to walk a path until there is nothing with which to walk, but damned to walk. No I will not crawl.
Will I?
Or maybe I'm dreaming, and wishing. Hopeful that I'll be spared my dignity if nothing else. Or worse still, hopeful that I'll even get a death at all. For you see what resides in that coffin... is me.