Broken Wings

In the twilight where shadows cry,

Azraelion, wings torn, could only sigh.

Once he soared through the night so wide,

Now he lay where broken dreams abide.

Melanchor, a spirit draped in gloom,

Spoke softly in the midnight’s womb:

"These broken wings, they sang of light,

But now, dear angel, know only night."

Azraelion, his voice a distant song,

Whispered, "I thought I could belong,

In the sky where the stars would cling,

But now, we’ve got to learn to fly again."

The spirit chuckled, cold and thin,

"A dream so sweet, but all within.

You’ll never touch the skies so free;

*Learn to live* in the dark with me."

"Take these broken wings", the angel cried,

"And learn to fly, though hope has died.

Teach me, spirit, to embrace the night,

To walk with shadows, out of sight."

"Existence now is all you’ll know,

In the place where the dark winds blow.

No more the sky, no more the light,

Just endless fall, a starless night."

And so in darkness, he remained,

Wings of black, forever stained.

A fallen angel, lost and cold,

His story sung, his fate foretold.