Thing in the Woods

Blackbird singing in the dead of night

I watch as he outpaces me, soaring effortlessly into the bloody crimson sky, stretching his hands out towards the floating white city. His wings are dark and silent, far from the colors of perfection, but perfect nonetheless.

Take these broken wings and learn to fly

My own feathers drag along the ground, tips burned away, joints aching painfully. Their pristine purity has long been sullied by centuries of pain and neglect, by shame and stubborn pride.

All your life

He stops in the air and looks down at me. He wants me to follow him, to share in this moment. I can see it in his eyes. I shake my head. He shrugs, and I watch him loop through the air, dancing to a silent song that defies the laws of Heaven and Gravity.

You were only waiting for this moment to arise