Ascended Wings

 Born high into the horizon,
A beautiful life made of fortitude.
Has made its nest upon the sky of clouds
A flammable ring surrounds them,
Cut far from the ground.
An archer, covered in a black robe.
Harvesting the field and skies.
It comes to take your soul.
Aimed high, with red with envy in it’s eyes.
Come to support its work and demise.
An enteral bit a sting, of  a bitter sweet victory,
the channel of the beloved, comes to plays in its symphony,
And where it’s ashes awaits, these, are cast away from existences.
For without the presence of god, life seems to feel so desolant
And what awaits them? In the eternal fire where we all dwell. A physical presence.
To awaken, and find it was only a dream. That nothing was nothing, and our lives where only mere scheme. Fiddled by the god that provokes us. A illusion known as what we call love. And a meaning that we all must find. Are legacy lies with it, as do our children who we must remind to always find it, or you’ll live a life triumphant.
Its wings open, and awakens its ascended wings. Comes to a the last battle,
Of a winged victory, for the last king.