Dangling breeze, like a birds broken wing.
Tethered by angels, forgotten in song.
Falling from skies near and afar.
Fighting with swords in a lost holy war.
The heavens did weep, the sun went but black.
As midnight approaches, no turning back.
Swords in the mist, falling in prayer.
Virtues but lost, virtues but rare.
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Author:
RSM (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: July 22nd, 2026 07:06
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 4
Offline)
Comments1
A lovely write of few virtues in this battle. Well done
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