The Broken Wing

When he fell,it was getting dark.
The same sun which,
an hour ago,
was the mightiest,
was the crown
of this living world;
Now,
was at its bare feet
striving perhaps,
For help
to avoid his destiny
to avoid drowning in the gulp of the sea of darkness.

He realized:
crawling, somewhere inside,
was the repentance,
of having
A broken wing
or rather
Having a wing...'broken'.

He felt
his feelings dying off,
He could see
his sight fainting
And above all,
he could hear
the silent moaning
Of his bruised soul.

He tried to rebel
against the thought
That this was his destiny
to lay brazen
under the same overshadowing sky
Which he ruled once.

He dreamt of The Elixir of Life
as the Alchemist would call it.
But he was sure
His ruined spirit
would never be the same again.

Though he will die
but the reception
of the knowledge
Of all the lives on this earth
With all their bruised souls and their broken wings
and their repentances;
in silent whispers
of the Soul of The World,
was his Prize.