I look back.
Follow the feathers brought by the September wind, see where my wing has been lost for my flight has now become a clumsy walk.
I am missing from my sky; my angels are raining over the world thinking that I am astray forever.
I am hearing horns calling from away but I can only look up to them and promise to find my way back. I am feeling gentle touches, I can meet them in my prayers but I can not pull them in my reality nor I can mix with theirs.
I am choosing a lonely bench to heal the wounds that humans have grown inside me. I rest and in my tangled state of mind, I make up words that make no sense. But this delusive song hugs my need of punishing myself.
I’m missing a wing …
God, I am missing my wing, while the one I have is bleeding. How will I ever fly again?
I walk down on the path of illusions, I see how my fallen brothers are looking their way to the sky. They build stairs to Heaven, they never think that wings is what they need.
All of us, deserted angels, living with shattered hearts, looking for ways to go back from where we are long time gone.
“Do you truly feel that she is worth your wings?”
He smiled. “What good are my wings, friend, when I can hold the world in my arms?”