Literature
Memories of wings
'Vanitatum vanitas',
Said the Angel, as he flicked
A cigarette butt to the city
Down below, at his feet.
Shrugged silently as he raised
His eyes above to the skies,
Beholding the vast darkness
Seeking for a single spot of light.
Atop an observatory, they say
The closest of places
Humans can be to God,
'What great lies' he thought.
He reached with his hands
For a divine touch he once got,
Praying silently to a father
Who banished his child.
His fingers ran through the place
Where his wings used to be,
'Never more the perfect creature'
Now stripped of his grace.
He shut his eyes tight,
Saw visions of those flames
Eating souls, not purify t