She flies on the breath of the Gods,
insignificant strength against all odds.
She, the angel of the demons of anthropods.
Does she know?

She sings us the song of the moon;
A lonely, such a terribly painful tune
yet for her voice, no lyric demeans her boon.
Does she know?

Yet in watching her teal and jade fly away,
Ashamed to weep, reaching a hand out to keep her at bay
"I'll be strong enough for you to leave but not today,
Why won't you stay?"

She flies with no fear of the net,
only fearing that someday she might forget;
No web could steal her majesty and still she frets.
Doesn't she know?

Her home is just another glade,
Her laughter just a wildfiery parade
and her wings priceless more than her teal and jade
Does she know?

And in watching her teal and jade from below,
Saw her fall to a gust she'd fought so long ago;
Only as empty as the hearts that watch her go
As they sing, "Woah-

In watching such an Angel fly through the air,
Living so briefly in love with her laughter and despair.
The reason butterflies so tempting, why we stare;
They just don't care."

- Taotl Lli'am Chalan












Penned by my hand on the 11th of Midsummer, in the year 220 MA.