Feathers

Half&Half, Reality vs. Fantasy...?

I saw an angel...

My dear, sweet angel...

Locked up in a tower.

Chains hooked on to every limb,

Wings, once majestic,

reduced to feathery stubs,

He called out to me,

and his words,

choppy and few,

just barely brushed

the tips of my ears

His eyes were darker

than a moonless night,

staring at me,

begging me,

to comfort him.

I stood motionless,

my body,

frozen,

caught within his sight.

I could feel the force of his gaze,

pulling me closer...

Around me,

I could feel the presence

of a thousand, burning, souls,

crying out, reaching toward me,

clawing at my feet.

But I kept on walking,

on and on...

Towards my goal,

Towards my angel in the tower.

I could feel the heat from the flames

caress my body,

beads of sweat and blood ran down the side of my face,

stinging my eyes.

I cried.

And I cried.

And I tied my eyes shut.

I began to sing.

Lyric-less songs resonated this hollow bowl.

Walking around the ring,

I could no longer hear

the tormented voices of the lost,

but something else,

which had drowned their cries in it's existence.

I imagined his voice,

once clear,

like the light of the sun,

shining through the trees

in the middle of the afternoon...

...And his eyes,

bluer than the coldest ice,

but warmer than the kindest heart,

would take me in,

and lose me.

I was lost again,

and at that moment,

I'd been taken in.

Right now,

I see an angel...

My poor, sweet, angel...

No,

I lied.

I see a man with wings.

Author's Note

I was reading "1602" by Neil Gaiman and I was inspired by something a character said as he described what he saw. And since I've been thinking in images a lot lately, I decided to describe those images. Hope you like it. Cheers.