Feathers of a Fallen Angel
The clouds drifted closer and darker
Quietude settled upon the lands below.
No one knew the sky was mourning.
A light shower of rain sprinkled across my face
Reminding me of tears; soft tears, silent tears
I opened my eyes and raised them to the skies.
I could almost see the beautiful wings of the messengers of God.
But, why? Why do they weep?
Why do they bow their heads in sorrow?
Why do they allow themselves to radiate anything but happiness?
I asked myself over and over again.
The sprinkling rain ended
And a single ray of light made its way down to our realm.
What is an angel doing, drifting to the ground?
They lay on the sweet grass, still wet with dew.
They lay serenely, sending energy of regret and sadness.
They were the feathers, raven black and oddly beautiful.
An angel had fallen.
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