Atlantic-Sun
Atlantic-Sun:
From Heaven we fall, wingless, burnt and dying
twisting in agony. The sun set us aflame. Our wings
scorched black like tar, we lost our halos,
the crowns we inherited from our fathers.
The wax that held us together is now water, we water the earth
with the tears of our loss.
Flowers grow from the
cracks in our backs, it burns like ash searing stars
into our flesh.
We are set apart. No more strangers, we burst through
the clouds, breaking stars, and cutting the planets.
Then the sun
armored itself and clipped our father’s wings, like Icarus,
the sea becomes our mother, and we suckle her breasts
until she fills our lungs with her milk, and we inherit gills like fish.
We trade our angel-wings for fish-gills, the sea becomes our sun.
Until the water bubbles and fills our gills with air, smothering us, we
run for the sun,
We swim in sulfur that turns us black, it’s what our fathers did before us, and their fathers before them.
So, we dance until the sun becomes our sea, and swim in her flames.
Grasping for space and cosmos, it turns our skin silver. We weep. Because we know not what to do with our inheritance, the sun and the sea, our mysteries.
Wingless, we swim through air,
grasping for water to fill our lungs,
hoping sulfur kisses our skin.
Flying through the darkness with sun-wings we light our own way.
Our fathers were wrong, their crowns ill-fitting.
we offered them to the wolves, they howled at its beauty. The yellow moon sings a ballad while we fall, from grace, from favor, chucking our inheritance
as we plummet into the depths of mother earth.
We crack bones, and
shed feathers from winged-sun as we forfeit all it have gave us. The sun’s
flames don’t cool our skin, our hair has become serpents, and we can’t repent.
The air has become stone, our eyes are diamonds, and the beauty we inherited
is now grotesque. Our arms dangled like tails, our tails curl twisting unnaturally
We traded our beauty for death, and all we can do is sing.
From hell we crawl, scaled our skin, cracked, and dripping blood, we have buried our inheritance.
Our children will inherit the dust of our righteousness, the clouds of our unrepentance.
The fish-gills passed over them, the sun-wings ran and hid. All they are left with
is the truth of our existence, and the pain of the thinly veiled afterlife.
As we toil in this muddy drudgery. Our fathers curse our names, damning us
to the cold-moon and wandering-comets. We dig holes in our chest,
carving out the sins of our fathers, we must be born again.
As creatures of the sea-sun
with gilled wings that allow us to fly through her flames. We fall.
Light lost buried under water. Our inheritance, our offering.
From Heaven we fall, wingless, burnt and dying
twisting in agony. The sun set us aflame. Our wings
scorched black like tar, we lost our halos,
the crowns we inherited from our fathers.
The wax that held us together is now water, we water the earth
with the tears of our loss.
Flowers grow from the
cracks in our backs, it burns like ash searing stars
into our flesh.
We are set apart. No more strangers, we burst through
the clouds, breaking stars, and cutting the planets.
Then the sun
armored itself and clipped our father’s wings, like Icarus,
the sea becomes our mother, and we suckle her breasts
until she fills our lungs with her milk, and we inherit gills like fish.
We trade our angel-wings for fish-gills, the sea becomes our sun.
Until the water bubbles and fills our gills with air, smothering us, we
run for the sun,
We swim in sulfur that turns us black, it’s what our fathers did before us, and their fathers before them.
So, we dance until the sun becomes our sea, and swim in her flames.
Grasping for space and cosmos, it turns our skin silver. We weep. Because we know not what to do with our inheritance, the sun and the sea, our mysteries.
Wingless, we swim through air,
grasping for water to fill our lungs,
hoping sulfur kisses our skin.
Flying through the darkness with sun-wings we light our own way.
Our fathers were wrong, their crowns ill-fitting.
we offered them to the wolves, they howled at its beauty. The yellow moon sings a ballad while we fall, from grace, from favor, chucking our inheritance
as we plummet into the depths of mother earth.
We crack bones, and
shed feathers from winged-sun as we forfeit all it have gave us. The sun’s
flames don’t cool our skin, our hair has become serpents, and we can’t repent.
The air has become stone, our eyes are diamonds, and the beauty we inherited
is now grotesque. Our arms dangled like tails, our tails curl twisting unnaturally
We traded our beauty for death, and all we can do is sing.
From hell we crawl, scaled our skin, cracked, and dripping blood, we have buried our inheritance.
Our children will inherit the dust of our righteousness, the clouds of our unrepentance.
The fish-gills passed over them, the sun-wings ran and hid. All they are left with
is the truth of our existence, and the pain of the thinly veiled afterlife.
As we toil in this muddy drudgery. Our fathers curse our names, damning us
to the cold-moon and wandering-comets. We dig holes in our chest,
carving out the sins of our fathers, we must be born again.
As creatures of the sea-sun
with gilled wings that allow us to fly through her flames. We fall.
Light lost buried under water. Our inheritance, our offering.
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