Ashen

She's the fire beneath his wings
The impetus to remain in flight
Fearful to touch down again
Reduced to ashes in her lap

She adds sugar, stirs her tea
Whispers with the other crones
"Stars above, stoke thy fires
Let light see his cheap desires"

He finds he's losing altitude
Dropping lower to the bier
The High Priestess drools, smack her lips
And knows all will be revealed

His wings betray him, lower still
His secrets bared to baleful eyes
His collusions and shady business schemes
Affinity with a tyrant thug

There's tacit accord with racist pigs
Favoritism to the filthy rich
All these treacheries, and more
Will be ashes blowing out the door...