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Monday, 16 March 2015

A Broken Wing's Tale


Broken wings always feels
Sensitive even after healing
When in flight, a reason to be cautious

Or when the weather turns cold
Piercing itching pains in the bones
Like rheumatism with full grip

To make the strongest look vulnerable
Holding onto what seems like
Their very dear life

An old wound with scar
That holds old stories of a time
In the midst of the wilderness

I have seen angels fall
Broken all their wings
And walk the earth like destitute

A jump would even be a miracle
For once such powerful
Old kings from the heavens

They crouch when they walk
Slowly with fingers to the floor
Like Smeagol mumbling "my precious"

The only sign of who they are
Is from the dog's hysterical bark
When they sense their presence

Do not ever point and laugh
For ignorance on such matters
Is not bliss of blessing but a curse

For if the angels can fall
And loose their wings
What more of man w' nothing but ego

Broken wings always feels
Sensitive even after healing
When in flight, a reason to be cautious

Listen to the cautionary tales
Of the old folks and take heed
When they say, even t' mighty angels fall

What more of man w' nothing but ego
Building on quick sand so fast
A lego castle with haste, racing against time

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