Unfurl

Written from a digital art piece I saw one night before my creative writing class. Purely abstract in meaning.

An angel's wings against thin, broken air.

With rustling roar hushed in by the void,

Time-spaced night sees and wonders why

The brimstone of it's eyes behold you.

In glow inhuman you relate to the shadow

Tonight we die, together, as one.

Feather on skin, scale to the feather

Nearly touching, the angel, he cries.

Night's vast cloaks wing to life

Burning, gaping, existence- he thrives.

The moon-beam upon wings

-furl and unfurl-

Glinting, pale white, in the shadow of time

He flies one last evening.

Time and night, and soul, and shadow

Twirl together to form the void.

Swallowing the sun, he glimmers- you fly

-furl and unfurl-

Ice waves in moonlight, over clouded abyss

The angel he goes, forward, no fear,

To the demonic, red-breathed, dead star.

He will kill him, both of them.

The angel, he knows. The wing's feathers

-furl and unfurl-

The moon- star will kill him, them,

This he knows all too well.

The wings and their bone-hollows,

Waving in moonlight, one last time,

And one last howling battle cry

-furl and unfurl-

The moon-winged, light-star

He falls. Time-space and shadow

never vanish through it all.

Death for the wings, tear them all down,

Slumber in blankets of midnight-twilight.

No more, little wings, will you fly

Dead as a moon-beam

-furl and unfurl-