I sit on the ground with unbroken wings.
Feathers surround me, and float round my head.
I hardly remember my flight from the sky, the terror of darkness, and the attacks made from fire.
But I remember the pain and the weight of my sins.
When they surrounded me like demons as I fled to the stars.
Yet a foot that had slipped or a flap gone amiss, and my defenses fell as broken walls.
I cannot remember if my fall was graceful as a dove or as comely as the dripping rain.
Or if I had fallen like a great tower once mighty, now wracked and stinking from decay.
I only remember the fire in my spirit, the fight in my limbs to remain among the clouds.
But fate threw me away.
Destiny cast me down.
So I sit here alone with the dirt under my fingers.
Not a wing, nor a bone broken.
Yet neither have I…
The strength to rise.