According To The Fallen

According To the Fallen

Birth, Life, Death; Eternity in the span of a phrase
Words so fragile spoken louder than a breath
They shatter and die; pass within the facets of time
Lost within the catacombs of a heartbeat;
A song with no rhythm or no rhyme

Make whole again these empty eyes
Mend these tattered wings; no longer neglect the child
Who falls from her place straight down toward the sky
Wingless angel, do not stay too long
Amongst the children of iniquity you do not belong

Nimbus about your head
Weight which drags you down
Make real these comfortable lies
Continue to ascend down towards the ground
Let thy father’s angels pour their bowls

Still twisting, twirling, floating, falling toward the sky
Descend and leave the nexus behind
Stumble twice upon the block of your crimes
Angel made marionette by choicelessness
Strings and chains, ropes and cords; bound by selflessness

Carved soulless by the swollen member
Lies the shell, shattered as the coal’s ember
Clothed in divinity’s light
Marked by mortal plight
Seraphim anchored down into the material body

Become my guardian, become my chains
Bind my heart, starve my soul
Become my limiter, bare my pains
Shed vacant tears from benign eyes
Agapic raindrops of dower sympathy

God who reaches down, man who grasp in the dark
Never lost only blind, swallowed in distraction
Live to struggle and open one’s eyes
Naive day of serenity lights eternally the bright day
Still falling down amongst the clouds

Broken wings which send you round
Place thine heart upon the self ruined altar
Arabella is thy name
A wreath of acquired lifelessness; a sea of empty eyes
Vulture feathered Eros which circle about the vestige,

The remnant of thy broken soul dashed upon the rocks
Drain the blood from thy veins; seep strength from the center
Breathe life into the empty shell
Imbue the flesh with a spark; bestow the eyes
Give words to the speechless mass

Gift sight to the fumbling blind
Make whole again these empty eyes;
Mend these tattered wings
Still twirling, twisting, slipping toward the sky
Slain by kindness the blade of brevity

That which once was turned corroded; the hand of
Peace to close thine eyes
Create the visage of such a blissful face
To pierce the darkness of life’s repition
To hold the flame in the palm of one’s hand—

Is to hold the world.
Only for the strong willed; the brief of heart
The fire branded words of defiance
Crush the spirit in tyrannical obstinance
So may the consecration descend

Float the seraph feathers broken away
The tattered white robes made bright by divinity
Limbs as bright pillars of fire;
Let choice break the chains of stoicism
Radiance to fill thine eyes, and spread the seraph’s wings wide.