As If On The Wings Of An Angel

I sat on the balcony looking up at the sky which was painted a deep orange as the sun set, and I thought about Icarus and his failed attempt at reaching the heavens which he so earnestly strove for. I then thought to myself, what if he survived his burning plummet toward the Earth? What then? What if we're all like Icarus, striving ceaselessly toward our own personal Sun? Should we then all burn in a plume of flames when we fail to reach beyond the superhuman regions beyond the firmament? Of course not! We are of the stars, and it is our divine right to stretch for the that Sun, and if, and probably when we fall helplessly, we should dare to rise once more! So here is a story about an angel who has fallen from grace, which is a tribute to that unfathomable will of the human heart which pushes beyond the apparent and leans into the celestial.

The lad's wings were drenched and clung to his back in a mass of feathers, his bruised and battered knees ran pink beneath the pouring rain. "Tis but a scratch!" the young angel declared, looking to the heavens from which he fell so unceremoniously. The plummet had seen him fall through a thicket of dark clouds, where he finally clambered into the jagged branches of a great elm, which left him sprawled in a pool of mud. Rising the angel unfurled his sodden wings and whispered to himself: "We fall so that we can rise!". With his eyes set upon the Sun, unperturbed by the apparent muster of clouds that hid it from view, he leapt into the air and took flight. His splendid wings flapped incessantly against the pouring rain that seemed to cut at him in tiny blades of water. He squinted against the deluge, rising and rising. Reaching for that oft times elusive phantom called destiny.

 The clouds became darker and darker as he rose, and in his periphery, he beheld the flash of lightning that illumined the sky in a streak of light, bruising it, and leaving it purple for a time. Many of his fallen brother's and sister's had warned him of the thunder during an ascent. "When the sky turns white" they said "The Great one is warning you not to return" they finished, but the young angel paid no heed to their words of caution. His will was set in stone. The thunder cracked once more, lighting the sky, but the lad kept soaring, his wings now floating beneath the wind and the wisps of vapor that gave him speed. At length he rose above the dark muster of clouds as eagles do, and saw before him that fire in sky that he so longed for. With his eyes wide, he pulled his wings tight and gave a final flap of hope. But, to his great disappointment, as he gave his body one last jerk of speed, he was met by a flash lightning that set his beautiful wings afire. He smelt his wings burn at first, then he saw his left one ablaze before realizing the harsh truth. The senses are odd in that way, they trick you into thinking you're perfectly alright before it finally dawns on you that something is terribly wrong. The young angel then let out a cry of anguish as he fell toward that orb we call Earth yet again.

The lad now lay upon a bed of rocks, dazed and confused. He looked up and saw that the storm had given way, as the clouds seemed to rescind, leaving a beautiful ray of iridescent color that slashed across the now peach colored sky. "An omen" the angel declared "Rainbows only appear after a great storm." he finished, as he rose groggily, nursing his burned wings behind his back. "The fire from the storm may have singed my wings, but I am not burnt! The flames have simply burnt away the unnecessary feathers required for me to reach the Sun!". With that the lad endeavored to leap once more into his destiny, but he stumbled and fell into the ocean before him. After great effort he crawled ashore with his wings damp and his spirits as low as he had fallen. "The water has soothed my burns, and left me more adept at flying once they have dried!" He whispered to himself. Now dry and with faith burning fiercely in his heart he leapt once more into the sky.

His wings now cropped short seemed to carry him with greater speed than the ones heaven had seen fit to bestow upon him at his birth. He now flapped against the wind with a renewed purpose, the wind of destiny seemed carry him higher and higher as if the Sun was calling out to him. again he rose above the clouds and there saw that oft times unreachable light that burned with a never ending flame. He jerked his body once more, rendering it erect before he heard something sound in the wind: "Go on" the voice seemed to say. The boy heeded the call, because unlike the voice of his brother's and sister's below, this voice could only be heard in complete silence and only whilst in pursuit of that ever elusive phantom called destiny. Higher the young angel rose, feeling the heat of the Sun burning him slightly. The Sun's scorching rays increased in temperature the closer the angel got until he cried out in pain. The lad wanted to turn back. To return to the Earth where he felt he would be safe from the fire, but something or someone spoke to him in that moment. "Come into the fire dear boy. This fire will not burn you, it will only burn what you are not!". The angel, still writhing in pain, heeded the call of eternal wisdom, and looked dead ahead into the flames of the Sun that twisted and turned like red and orange tongues. "I shall come" Replied he "And I shall come as I was meant to come. As If On The Wings Of An Angel!"

"You're stronger than you think"

T.B.