by Ezra Okami
Inspired by The Fallen Angel by Alexandre Cabanel, 1847
|The sky twinged pink with the dying embers of the day,|
Chasing away the calming blue.
Though today had been not so calm.
Clouds twisted and glided in the sky,
Their shapes disturbed by velvety feathered wings.
Vexatious cries echoed in the open air,
Bothersome singing danced through the cosmos.
These cries mattered not to the battered warrior
Whose wings began to fade into an elegant darkness fitting for a king.
His heart ached with betrayal,
Blue eyes burned with the acidic pain from a loveless father.
No, this would not be his end.
Even as a perfect tear shed from red-rimmed eyes,
The warrior knew the act was right,
But he could not go back.
His choice was made.
Muscles flexed with the hollow ache of overuse.
Though his former siblings filled the realms with their troublesome joy,
The fallen angel himself filled with a somber wisdom.
A low hiss spilled from his lips,
‘Better to be a king, than to serve an ungrateful one’
As the night fell and with it the cries of victory,
The black-winged king rose with a renewed power
Followed by, with swift loyalty, his fellow fallen.
And with them the birth of a new era.