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.

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