The Race for Wings

angel-wing[1]

The

Race

for

Wings

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Life is a race

It’s plain to see

Robotic armies failing to flee

From their everyday lives

With brains like a bee

Buzzing and floating

Hoping for something sweet

 

Nectar from a raindrop

Dust from the sun

Trying to be the best

Until the day they’ve won

 

Trickling through the haze

Of buildings they have made

Filled with rats, in a maze

Their vision is blurry

Burned by the sting

Of every-day automatons

Trying to gain their wings

Beyond the Storm


I smell lingering freshwater from the rain that once drenched my head. I can hear the distant thunder rumbling as the wind gently pushes the storm to a new destination. It is headed to some other unfortunate soul, and I can only be glad that it no longer tortures me. The only unsettling thing is that I still see no sign of the clouds letting up, and they are as dark as ever now and even darker in the distance- a sign that my destiny remains unknown, and I still may have to face great perils and dangers on my quest to find my purpose.

The wind is blowing leaves all about, shaking trees and vines- howling tauntingly at me. To try to resist nature would certainly be the end of me. So I go on, trying to ride the rampant flow of time. What else can I do? I have tried to fight for greater things, yet I only ended up worse in the long run. It is almost like I’m not in control of my own life, like there is some higher being dwelling over me and making sure that nothing goes the right way.

All I can do is go along with this infernal plan that has been made out for me, and look for a sign of truth that things will get better. Everything is shifting shapes and turning out to be something different that what I originally thought it to be. I don’t know what to believe in anymore. The only other option would be to give up, and I’ve already tried that before- to no avail.

It’s hard to be strong in this world – this rotting wasteland that is corrupting more and more every day – where there are fewer heroes and numerous thieves and murderers. Hope fades as a dark aura shifts and grows across the world like an ending sunset- marking the dawn of something truly wicked. Look around you now, the clouds are twirling and red. Ah, the storm is not gone at all. It has just begun.

What I thought was a storm before was just a precursor to the real thing. Hellish and looming, the inferno is destroying all in sight and seems to be expanding outward in every direction. I cannot run away anymore. If this is meant to be the end, then so be it. I will fight until every last breath has left my lungs, until all of my blood has been spilled, even until my body is used to the point beyond repair.

I must survive where I can seek the answers to finding the path of greatness and happiness, where I can finally have a true purpose, and where I can teach others that they can also fight for a worthy cause- to never give up and to always believe. That is a cause well worthy of fighting for, and if I die, I would not have it any other way than doing it fighting for the only thing I have left, the only thing that keeps me alive – hope.