A Beautiful Sight

A dove in brilliant white now tumbles
Engulfed in flames it burns like a falling star
From brilliant white to charcoal black it descends
No tears shed, no prayer offered. Is this judgement?

It's just another bird, another bird, another bird.
Was it the live wires, or the luminous glass of tall buildings
Or was it the poison of the cold beasts below?
I think it was our blindness, rejection

Now upon the ground it lays in blood, feathers, and ash
It is now a sight most horrible, for eyes detestable
Created beautiful in his image, now destroyed by higher beings
You can't even stare at your own destruction

Out of the ashes cold emerges the crow
You thought perhaps a phoenix? No, a it is a monster!
Your murderous hearts will paint the sky black with crows
It will be the end of you, your omen, you demise!

When the graves are smashed, caskets burned, and broken
When the monsters rise and bring justice you will die
Then the blood will be spilled upon the land
Then the monsters' will breath their last, silence

Do the doves now fly?

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* Text copyright_January 2009 to Archetype_for_a_Pilgrim on *