Descent

I stand upon the precipice, poised above an abysmal depth
Beneath the azure open heavens brushed with white clouds
Golden warmth upon my shoulders, a cool wind in my face
I spread my wings and close my eyes in love and am lifted
Satin coolness on my bare skin as I sail on up and on higher

There where black touches blue I rest and look down again
There is pain and there is suffering, twisted in uncaring hands
Masses entwined beneath encrusted filth and rocks of poison
Slavering beasts ruled by passion for continued accumulation
Saviors impassioned by pain others given sublime knowledge

Like the vermin of the grave which will consume all of them
No care for a world of their making a world worshiping pain
But as I gather myself to leave I hear from amongst the masses
The cry of a child for a parents care but there is no care coming
No father to laugh and make light of scraped knees and bruises

No mother to soothe and kiss away the hurt with her own tears
No kind heart with a little bit more room to care about another
And then they hear it to, grinning through red tainted bronze
Feral red eyes with cudgels for hands and cruel uncaring hearts
Some who care not for other except it be to extinguish their fires

Cooing their love as they torture and they rip innocence away
It is there I can touch it, cool comfort and a rest from labors
I close my eyes and a tear streams forth leaving a trail of iron
I fall backward into the abyss watching as peace is taken way
My kindred call to me but I am not their friend I am not them

Icy winds rip away the warmth, tear away my hopes my dreams
As I pass the eerie on which I stood my wing catches and tears
My shoulder splits and rips tendons like guitar strings of pain
Fiery plumes ripped and abraded away leaving leathery stump
To remind me that I may never fly, I can never return there again

I am beat time and time upon time again against the mountain
I pass the plains of the cattle lowing to be fed and cared for
As they produce more cattle to consume and pollute their home
Here the gardens of those who will not see what is before them
I shriek pain to awaken them from their contented lotus dreams

There the pens of the swine lounge and revel in their own filth
My skin is burned by their foulness and the smell lingers forever
There the frozen river that cares not and drowns the innocent
Infants and children sliding beneath clear ice gasping icy water
There the world tree it's limbs bare, broken and hewn by axes

I strike it, it's splinters rend my flesh while slowing my plummet
Skin rips and muscles tear, my bones are broken and twisted
But each limb as it breaks me and is broken by me slows my fall
And I am gently laid upon the soft loam where I rest and heal
Blood stops and the bones heal the skin closes but pain remains

Always the pain searing and ripping, always the morose rage
Of what I could have been, tempered by what you made me into
What I made myself into, a vile beast who hunts vile beasts
A warrior who wears armor of scars and twisted broken bones
Held together by a boys wistful hopes and ages threads of anguish