She knelt upon the stone.
Heavenborn, but wingless,
the uncrowned Angel rests
in place, Fallen. The throne Continue reading “Heavenborn, but Wingless”
Dry and Brittle
Husk.
Dry, brittle…
Dust. Continue reading “Dry and Brittle”
Your Halo, Worn Proud
Sun-singer,
sing your song
into the ether.